The Tie that Binds
by Luckynumber28
Summary: After Dr. Robertson accidentally kills an important patient on the operating table, he and his daughter Cordelia flee Massachusetts for the Tug River Valley. While her father establishes a medical practice, Cordelia adjusts to the savagery of her neighbors. Soon she is torn between two sons on opposing sides of a bloody family feud. (Cap Hatfield/OC/Jim McCoy)
1. Exiles

_Springfield, Massachusetts_

 _1881_

The woman had bled to death under Doctor Elias Robertson's knife. Whether she was lying on an operating table or not, it didn't matter. She was the dead wife of a local judge, a powerful man with many connections.

Her father would never admit it but Cordelia Robertson knew there was more to the incident than a slip of the wrist. She had seen the empty syringes in the closet of his medical practice. Father's limp had become more exaggerated of late with a Confederate bullet still lodged deep in his hip. His morphine addiction was understandable but what had happened was inexcusable. Now their whole life in Springfield would cease to exist.

"Please see that those boxes are packed tight with sawdust," Cordelia instructed, brushing a stray, charcoal curl from her forehead. "They are fragile."

The tap of Father's cane sounded across the threshold. He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder but Cordelia did not turn from tucking the last of his medical volumes into a pine box. He sighed but she did not look at him.

"I received word that they are expecting us by the end of the month," he ventured before turning to cough into his handkerchief. "It was wise of you to suggest contacting your mother's cousin. We won't see much of him but he has been most helpful."

Cordelia nodded coolly and reached out for another heavy bound book. The July sun flooded the nearby window, shadows of curious folk peeping in shivered on the floorboards. By now the whole county knew of their shame as they were shunned, driven out of the business and finally out of the state. The judge whose wife had died was not a merciful man and he had done everything in his power to tear down her father's reputation as a physician.

One of the movers stumbled and Cordelia shot him a stern look. "Be careful, I said."

"Dee-"

"Yes father?" She turned towards him, not meeting his eyes.

"What would I do without you?"

He gently grasped her chin till she looked at him. His steel gray eyes that she shared were warm but distant as though the events of the past weeks had left him detached from their world. All the while she was alone and open raw to it, suffering through the gossip and snubs. None of their old friends from Springfield society would see them off and Cordelia was certain that none would miss them.

Doctor Robertson was dragging them away to tend the people of the Tug River Valley on the border between Kentucky and Virginia. They were blessed to have found a job as they had been run out of any other option in the state of Massachusetts. A distant cousin had his own practice in the area and had the connections to set them up in the middle of nowhere with no prospects at all for her future. There was no way Cordelia would lower herself to marry some low bred southern farmer, part of the same people who had shot her father in the war.

"You are so much like your mother," Father conceded when she didn't reply. He let his hand drop and shook his head. "Your expectations are so high. But try not force them on those around you. I fear you'll only be disappointed."

As he hobbled away, Cordelia rubbed the back of her neck. Her shoulders slumped from carrying the weight for her small broken family. That was one blessing. Her mother wasn't alive to witness their downfall. Moving towards the window, she peered out into the busy street.

Carriages jostled down the cobblestone. One stopped at the bank across the street. A figure paused at the entrance of the marble columns and glanced over his shoulder at her window as if he knew she was standing there. Marshall Rogers, the senator's grandson, met her eyes. If everything hadn't happened, she might have been engaged to him by the end of the summer. His lips stiffened.

Cordelia swept away from the window before he could snub her. He certainly would have done so. Even if the man had been a suitor during her one and only failed season after her debut, he was still a part of society. Something she would never exist within again.

Marshall Rogers was not going to rescue her from the wilds with a proposal. She would merely have to become resigned to her fate, one far worse than death.


	2. Humiliation in a Small Town

"Uppity Yankee." The whispered slur was muttered behind her as she strode down the street along the wooden boardwalk lining the store fronts.

"Too good for the likes of us, it seems."

Cordelia straightened her fashionable riding hat and peered over her shoulder at the two girls tittering behind her. They narrowed their eyes, unconcerned that their conversation had been overheard. Giving a ghost of a smile, Cordelia nodded her head. They were much younger, not worth the effort. None of them in that backwater town were as far as she was concerned. Besides, they were right. She was too good for the likes of them.

They had arrived on the banks of the Tug Fork a month prior after three long weeks of travel. Long gone were the classic red brick neighborhoods of her New England home. She was now lost among the ambling groves and wild mountains of a strange land. It was odd to think they were still in the same country.

Sweeping the bustle of her gray taffeta skirt to the side and lifting a gloved hand, she motioned the girls to walk past. She had one more errand to run while she was in town. Her father's practice was a street away and would soon be closing for the day. Then they would leave this sad excuse for a spot of civilization and return to their home on the outskirts of town.

The door to the Justice of the Peace's office scraped the worn floorboards. Wrinkling her nose at the stench of the drunk sleeping it off in a cell beside the town official's desk, she forced a smile. Judge Valentine Hatfield rose from his seat.

"Miss Robertson, how are you today?"

"I am well, thank you judge," Cordelia replied primly, as the man in the cell stirred and whistled at the sight of her. A man that drunk would whistle at anything in a skirt.

"Hush now or I'll have a mind to keep you in there till next Sunday," Judge Hatfield snapped. The man rolled over with a belch.

Stomach turning, Cordelia again attempted cordiality. "Judge Hatfield, I'm here for my father. It seems there is some confusion concerning his medical license within the state of Kentucky."

"Really? I thought he said he had gotten that cleared up already," Judge Hatfield replied as he peered through the papers on his desk.

Cordelia shifted awkwardly in her fine, high button boots. When the Judge had invited her and her father over for supper upon their arrival, the doctor had been clearheaded and charming. Hatfield had claimed they would be a fine addition to the community. He had yet to see her father after he shot himself up with his morphine fix. In such a state, Doctor Robertson's mind would slip and he'd forget to fulfill his obligations to make a living. It had been such an afternoon.

"I am not certain. I would be much obliged if you would look into it for us."

"Of course, of course. How is your father? Are you both adjusting well?" He ran a hand over his full, white beard. "I know this area isn't exactly what you were used to back east..."

"The scenery is just breathtaking." She couldn't think of anything better to say.

Hatfield's keen brown eyes studied her and Cordelia sniffed, glancing away. The shrewd lawman saw right through her. "Give yourself some time, Miss Robertson. This place can grow on you. A pretty girl like you will be sure to find a new life here in these hills."

Cordelia wanted to say that he sounded like her father but didn't. The words sounded just as empty coming from another man.

"Thank you for your help, judge. I will tell my father that we must have you over for dinner once we are more settled."

"I look forward to the invitation, Miss Robertson."

"You gonna extend that invitashun ta me-" the drunk crowed.

"Quiet." Judge Hatfield growled and Cordelia swore she saw the older man's cheeks shade pink.

The street was shadowed in the late afternoon, wagons rolling by in the mud with people heading home for supper. Soon she'd close the practice and pack her father into their cart. They had found a suitable housekeeper so dinner would be ready upon their arrival. Cordelia could only pray they wouldn't receive anymore patients for the day. Not with her father as incapacitated as she had left him.

Her mind spinning, clouding her judgment, she lifted her skirts and trotted across the road. If she had been paying attention she would have seen the cart. The driver called out a warning in the nick of time. She leaped backwards to avoid the hooves of two bay horses. The driver cut his wagon to the side. In the slick mud, the wheel slipped and ran into the raised sidewalk. The horses panicked. Between the force of the collision and the reins jerking his hands forward, the man flew over onto the boardwalk, cracking his forehead on the rough edge of a plank.

"Dear Jesus..." Cordelia muttered, picking her way in front of the nervous steeds and through the gathering folk around the man. "Is he hurt?"

"Damn it, woman! You could have put my other eye out!"

Cordelia blinked down at the man, her mouth dry from shock. Blood from a gash under his fair hairline was dripping down between his eyes. One of them was white and smooth as pearl. A man had never sworn in front of her before, much less at her.

"I apologize, I didn't see-"

The man threw off an onlooker trying to help him to his feet and shook out a black hat. "Cuz you weren't lookin'! A miracle you didn't upset the cart and kill someone. Who the hell do you think you are, parading across Main Street like the Queen of Sheba?"

The crowd responded with whispers and laughs. Cordelia reddened, her heart pounding. Would this town offer them nothing but humiliation?

"Sir, I am sorry." Her voice quaked as she spoke. "But you're hurt, my father's practice is only over here. We- we can have you stitched up-"

"So you maim me then steal my money for the healin'?"

Another round of laughter.

"No of course not."

Gingerly, he touched the cut. Peering down at the blood on his fingertips, he glared up at her. Under the hard stare from his strange eyes, Cordelia couldn't hold his look for long.

"I'll see to my horses first, Miss."

"Robertson."

"What?"

"It-its Robertson, Miss Robertson."

The man scoffed and brushed past her. "I wasn't asking."


	3. The Doctor's Spells

No doubt his mother would have been shocked by his behavior. He could almost hear Levicy Hatfield's growling reprimand followed by a smack on the head. _His fool head_ , she would correct. Nearly killing a woman and then swearing at her as though she were a greenhorn hand on his father's logging crew. Cap had a mind to clean himself up and continue his business in town but guilt drove him to the door of the new doctor's office.

Even in all her fine clothes, Miss Robertson had looked like a beat dog after he had cussed at her. What kind of girl trotted around a backwater town wearing such foolishness anyhow? And the way she talked, all proper like with that Yankee drawl?

Cap removed his hat and opened the door of the clinic. The front room was empty, papers and books neatly arranged on the bookshelf. He ran his calloused fingers over a mahogany desk. He knew a fine piece of furniture when he saw it. This new doctor was rich as Solomon, at least for that area.

Murmuring voices drew him towards the back of the room where two doors were ajar. He peeked in one, holding his hat to his chest.

"Father. Please drink this," Miss Robertson begged, her back to Cap.

The man she was coaxing awake was splayed out in a chair, his leg propped up on a low stool. His gray head lolled to the side like a doll's. He swatted out as though she were a fly buzzing at his ear. Cap smirked. The doctor was drunk as a skunk. For all the airs she put on, Miss Robertson's father was no better than the layabout whiskey hounds down at Mate Creek Tavern.

With an exasperated sigh, she perched her hands on her lean hips and peered towards the window. Her mouth was turned down so hard, he feared she might burst into tears. Ashamed of eavesdropping, Cap dropped back a step. His rancor was tempered but he was speechless as she emerged from the room. Her gray eyes widened as though she had forgotten him.

"Miss Robertson, I would-" he stumbled over his words, fixing his eyes on the muddied hem of her rich dress. "What I mean is out there-"

"I fear my father is indisposed." She folded her hands neatly over her middle. "I am very sorry for the-"

"Please, don't apologize." Cap gave a breathy laugh.

"Though my father is unable to see to you, I can if you will allow me. I have been assisting him in his surgery since I was fifteen."

Cap rubbed the back of his neck and met her eyes once more. She looked away as though the sight of his one blind eye disturbed her. Usually he enjoyed how it intimidated those around him. But now, when he felt badly for yelling at her, it only made things worse.

"Miss Robertson, I'm mighty sorry for cussin' at you."

She gave a hint of a smile, a spray of freckles highlighting her nose. "If you will just follow me into the surgery."

He slunk behind her into the room next to the one where her father slept it off. She quickly cleared away an empty syringe and closed an open bottle near it, blushing as though she was embarrassed about the mess. Silently, she motioned for him to sit. He obeyed, studying the dozens of medicine bottles with different labels, clean rolled bandages, gleaming surgical instruments and a black leather bag in the corner. A name was printed on it, Doctor Elias F. Robertson. She noticed him looking at it.

"It's my father's. His father had it made for him when he finished medical school. My grandfather was a doctor as well."

"From whereabouts?"

She carried over a swab with a red glass bottle. He had already wiped the blood from his face and pressed a cloth on the cut until it had stuck. "Massachusetts. My father's family is originally from Boston but I've only ever lived in Springfield. Well...until now."

With her fingertips, she carefully peeled back the kerchief. She smelled like no other woman he had ever been around, not even a whore. It was a perfume, it reminded him of Christmas, oranges and cinnamon. He fidgeted with the hat in his lap.

"You should brace yourself, this will sting," she warned as she dabbed the swab in the bottle.

He gritted his teeth as she carefully applied it to the cut. It hurt like hell. Squeezing his eyes shut, he hissed through his teeth.

"Its iodine-"

"Thought as much," he grunted.

She pulled back the swab. His mind swam between the pain and her closeness, her breath stirring his hat mussed hair. He wished to God he had his brother's way with words. He felt like a grubby handed little boy. It would have been better had he never gone there.

"Thank your stars this won't need stitches," she commented unrolling a bandage and wrapping it around his head.

"Tell you what, Miss Robertson. I don't think I'd be able to see you regular for doctoring," he blurted out.

She scoffed as she gathering the supplies. "Why is that?"

Cap's jaw dropped as he struggled to come up with an excusable statement. He couldn't. "It's just a lady like yourself-"

"Like myself?"

He stood, itching to be gone but her gaze kept him from making a run for it. "Letting myself get healed by a woman like you, I wouldn't feel comfortable-"

Cocking her head to the side to look past him, she frowned. Before he could say anything, the doctor stumbled into the room, muttering to himself. Cap stepped back as Miss Robertson rushed forward and grasped her father by the forearms.

"Father, sit down please."

"Alice, dear. Where is my bag?"

She pulled him over to a seat. The man stared blank faced at Cap. Immediately he knew that the doctor was not drunk but he was certainly under the influence of something. Frantically, his daughter dashed into the other room and returned with a coat. Tucking the doctor's shoulders into it, the man's eyes drifted half closed once again.

"No, father! Wake up!" she cried out but it was too late. The man was already asleep.

"Can I do anything, Miss Alice?" Cap asked, taking the liberty to call her by the name her father had used.

She sighed, a pale hand rubbing at her throat. "My name is not Alice."

"Oh...I thought he said-"

"Alice was my mother," she interrupted coldly. "When my father is having one of his...spells...he confuses me with her. My name is Cordelia."

Cap wanted to ask what kind of spell her father was having but waited to see if she would explain. She didn't.

"I don't believe I ever heard your name."

"Cap Hatfield."

A hint of a smile passed over her drawn face. "Just Cap?"

"Well, William Hatfield but I'm called Cap."

"Hatfield. Any relation to the Judge?"

"My uncle."

She shook her head with a sigh. "Lots of people related in this area. Well, Mister Hatfield, I must be getting my father home."

Cap nodded, furrowing his brow. "Where do you live?"

"Just outside of town."

Getting this man out into a wagon would be a chore. Without asking, he pulled the doctor to his feet. The man grumbled but didn't protest as Cap wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

"Let's get you two home then, Miss Robertson."


	4. Heathen

The last time she had been driven home by a man who wasn't her father had been three months earlier. It was after Louisa Campbell's masquerade ball where Cordelia had been the envy of the event. Cordelia had caught Marshall Rogers for an escort after he had requested several dances from her and then invited her to join him in his private box at the theater. The grandson of the senator and one of the most eligible bachelors in the county.

There was a chance this boy was the best the Tug River Valley could offer. He called himself Cap, one moment coarse and raging and the next as bashful as a schoolboy. Her worst fears were confirmed in him. She would certainly die a spinster in the Appalachians.

Cordelia shifted her body away from him, subtly enough for him not to notice. Her snobbery had been bred in her bones. She wouldn't show it outwardly as she had been raised to mask her pride with politeness. But she couldn't deny it. Now he knew that her father was incapable of preforming his job efficiently. No doubt he would tell his family. With everyone related in the Tug River Valley by one way or another, word would spread faster than a fever. She bit her lip hard and closed her eyes.

"Miss Robertson, I want you to know that I won't tell nobody about this," Cap said softly as though he read her mind.

A pair of owls were calling to each other in the twilight, bats winging deliriously overhead. Cordelia let out her breath. Perhaps Cap Hatfield was the kind of man who was faithful to his word... for all his atrocious grammar.

"Thank you, Mister Hatfield. I would be much obliged."

"If you don't mind me asking though, what's wrong with him?"

The aging doctor muttered in his stupor. Cordelia hoped he hadn't taken too much morphine. She didn't know how to handle an overdose. "Did your father fight in the war?"

"Don't know many whose daddy didn't," he replied, leaning forward on his knees.

"My father was an army surgeon. He insisted on tending men dying on the battlefield."

"Brave man."

"Yes. So brave he got himself shot in the hip. The bullet is still in there, hitting nerves and the like," Cordelia rambled. She stopped herself when she felt the hot burn of tears behind her eyes. "It causes him a lot of pain. The medicine he uses to help leaves him incapacitated."

"Morphine?"

She blinked over at him. "How did you know?"

"I'm not stupid, Miss Robertson."

Cordelia was glad that the dim light hid the shame washing over her face. She knew she was being judgmental and that it was wrong considering how helpful he was being. But her snobbery was the last thing she had left. She clung to it like a shield.

"He lost his practice up north because of this and now we may lose this last piece we have to play. My mother's cousin was doing us a favor with this clinic. Maybe it was trust misplaced." Cordelia neatened her gloves as she struggled to regain control of her emotions.

Cap nodded slowly. "And you're mad at him."

She scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You're mad at your pap."

He was a certainly presumptuous. She turned her face away from him. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"It's not. But it's written clear as day on your face."

Cordelia shifted farther from him on the seat, making sure he noticed. "Thank you for your discretion concerning my father but I would prefer not to talk about this anymore, Mister Hatfield."

"Certainly," Cap replied, chuckling. He snapped the horses to walk faster, jolting her body back into his side. He steadied her with a hand to the small of her back. "We almost there?"

Cordelia cleared her throat, intensely aware of his touch as he moved his hand away from her. "Up here."

Their home was in a clearing beyond the main road. With two stories of white washed boards and a broad porch, it was one of the finer homes in town. Her father had purchased it before their arrival through the help of his cousin. However, it was nothing compared to the brick townhouse where she had grown up in Springfield.

Cap lowed quietly as he halted the horses outside the front door. He leaped down and walked over to her side. She assumed he would help her with her hand but instead he gripped her by the hips and swept her to the ground. Breathless from his bold action, she blinked after him as he strode to where her father was laid up.

"C'mon, doc," he muttered, sitting him up and dragging him over the side.

"J-just this way, please," Cordelia directed him, still stunned by his manner towards her. She opened the front door for them. "Hannah! Please come help!"

Her new housekeeper, Hannah Macon, rushed from the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. "Sakes alive, the doctor!"

"He's only had one of his fits," Cordelia explained. She had already prepared Hannah by telling her that her father occasionally suffered these episodes. She hoped the middle aged woman wouldn't catch on that it wasn't a medical condition.

Hannah stopped dead in her tracks as Cap peered up at her, Doctor Robertson's arm slung over his shoulders. She narrowed her dark brown eyes with a heavy frown. "You just want him in his bed, Miss?"

"Yes thank you," Cordelia answered, eyeing the two of them. "If you could just follow us, Mister Hatfield."

The tension between her housekeeper and Cap Hatfield was palpable but she couldn't imagine why. They trudged up to the second floor where Cap deposited her father on his bed with a grunt.

"If you will take his boots off for me, Hannah. I will return right after I see Mister Hatfield to the door."

"Yes, Miss."

Hannah shot a heated glare at Cap. Cap dipped his head towards Hannah with an icy smile that did not reach his strange eyes. He strode from the room without a word. Perplexed, Cordelia followed him down to the front door, holding a lamp to light the dim foyer.

"Again, thank you for all your help, Mister Hatfield." She opened the front door and stood beside it. He stood in front of her, his hat held lightly in his rough hands. She did not meet his eyes, still unsure of the young man. "I also appreciate you not mentioning all this with my father to anyone."

"Of course. And thank you for my head...well, the mending of it. Not the wound itself," he replied with a soft chuckle.

She glanced up to find him studying her in the lamplight, his blind eye glazed like frost and the other pale blue. He pursed his lips and nodded before trotting out into the night. Cordelia shut the door but stood by it, listening as he drove away.

Taking a moment to collect herself, Cordelia returned to her father's room. Hannah was setting his coat and boots in the wardrobe. Cordelia loosened the buttons on the neck of his shirt and pulled a blanket over him.

"Thank you, Hannah. I would appreciate a cup of tea."

"I'll have it ready for you down in the parlor."

Her father would sleep till morning and not remember anything from the previous evening. Perhaps it was for the best so she wouldn't have to explain Cap Hatfield. She wouldn't know where to start.

After taking off her jacket and hat, Cordelia returned downstairs to the parlor. As promised, Hannah was setting up the tea things beside the hearth. Nights were growing cooler even though it was only early September.

"Do you need anything else? Supper is ready in the kitchen."

"Thank you, I believe this is all I need for now. It's been a rather trying day."

She gave the woman a pained smile as she sat down on the edge of the armed chair. The interaction between Cap and Hannah came back to her. After pouring a delicate cup for herself, Cordelia decided to ask.

"Hannah, I was curious. Do you know the young man who helped us this evening?" she said as the woman made her way to the door.

"Hatfield?" Hannah spit with enough venom to kill a man. Cordelia gaped at the usually even tempered widow's reaction. The housekeeper collected herself. "I'm sorry, Miss. I just...those Hatfields."

"What is wrong with them?" Cordelia prodded, her curiosity piqued.

Hannah sighed. "They are a rough lot, lying and cheating. Murdering-"

" _Murder_?"

"Yes. My sister's brother-in-law was murdered in cold blood by one of them, a mountain man named Jim Vance."

Cordelia stared at her, eyes wide at the news. "Why?"

Hannah shifted on her feet. "Because he fought for the Union in the war."

Her stomach dropped. She knew there were hard feelings in the border states between soldiers who had fought on opposite sides but after the peace, surely things had resolved themselves. Especially so many years since the conflict had ended.

"And defiling young girls too, leading them astray," Hannah continued. "Just keep your wits about yourself, Miss Robertson. Don't let yourself alone with that one. Of course, you didn't know any better. But my niece has been roped into living in sin with that young man's brother for a year now."

Cordelia let out a breath, setting down her cup and smoothing out her skirts. She knew she had gotten a bad feeling about him, for all his feeble attempts at courtesy. What kind of heathen place had her father dragged her to?

Hannah sighed. "I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to shock you-"

"No, thank you, Hannah. I appreciate the warning."

"I am sure he didn't mean you no harm."

Cordelia recalled how he had taken liberties to touch her. And she had opened the door for him to by offering to nurse him herself. She felt as though she had been defiled herself.

"I will be sure to steer clear of him from now on, I promise you that," Cordelia replied.

Giving her a quiet smile, Hannah left her to her thoughts. Cordelia's eyes shot to the front door. Her father had insisted on a steel bolt put in for a lock. She strode over and snapped it shut.


	5. Night Call

As she had promised, Cordelia invited Judge Hatfield over for dinner. Despite the reputation of the younger men in his family, Cordelia did not see the same deviousness in the older gentleman. He was an educated lawyer and authority figure within the community. Surely he was not cut from the same cloth as Cap Hatfield and his clan. Just the same, Cordelia did not mention the name of their guest while she and Hannah prepared for the evening. Thankfully Hannah left early to visit her sister so she never saw the judge ride up to their home.

Her father was his old self, all charm and easy conversation. Cordelia had held her breath all day, praying he wouldn't stumble home after being at the practice by himself. It had been nearly two weeks since his last bad incident when Cap had driven them home. She hoped he would hold off for a few more days at least.

"Miss Robertson, I must compliment you on this meal," Judge Hatfield crowed as she cleared the dishes from the table.

She smiled. "Thank you, Judge. Though it wasn't my hands that prepared the dinner. Our housekeeper did most of the work. I must admit, I have not had much practice in the kitchen."

"I understand. From what your father has said, it sounds like your life in Massachusetts was very different."

"My daughter has always been a fine hostess though. She took her mother's place in our home at thirteen and has done me proud," Father boasted, shifting his eager eyes towards his daughter.

Cordelia nodded her thanks, his words sinking to her gut. Father had been trying for days to make up for his last incident. It made her feel all the more guilty for the anger she harbored him. And Cap Hatfield had seen right through her with that ugly, blind eye. She recoiled at the thought.

"Who did you end up finding for a housekeeper?" Judge Hatfield asked as Cordelia brought in the coffee and pie for desert. A bottle of brandy for the men was on the tray as well.

Cordelia bit her bottom lip, wondering if he would know Hannah's family and their grudge. "Hannah Macon."

The judge's face betrayed no obvious emotion as she handed him a fine china cup. "Macon, you say?"

"Would you like a piece of pie, father?"

"Oh, yes please. Apple from the smell of it. My favorite," Doctor Robertson replied. "Hannah Macon. Wonderful woman, has been a grand help to Cordelia. Do you know her family?"

Judge Hatfield shifted in his seat as he lit his pipe. Cordelia was still getting used to men smoking in the presence of women. It never would have been done in the best houses of Springfield.

"The Macons? No, not really. But I believe her sister married into a family I am familiar with. The McCoys." He glanced up at Cordelia, studying her expression. She attempted to feign innocence but failed. "I suppose you have heard about the bad blood between my family and the McCoy clan."

"A few whispers," Cordelia lied.

Judge Hatfield chuckled low. "Well you're bound to hear more than a whisper if you stay long enough around these parts. Its an old grudge, held mostly between Hannah's brother-in-law and my younger brother, Anse, but I fear its grown to include whole families now."

"How long as this feud been going on?" her father asked.

"Years now. At least since the war between the states."

Nearly twenty years two families in the same area hating each other enough to do murder. It was almost Medieval.

"Now I don't want this to give you a bad impression of the people in the valley. Most are God fearing folk who stick to themselves and work hard. But now and then, sparks fly." He shook his head and puffed out a cloud of smoke.

The men retired to the parlor for their brandy. Cordelia excused herself and bid Judge Hatfield good night. He studied her as though he guessed she knew more than she was letting on. Not that she would ever admit it. She was planning on minding her own business in that pit of a town.

Another reason made her rush to her bedroom. A letter had arrived for her from Springfield and she hadn't had a chance to open it. Sitting at her writing desk, she sliced open the worn envelope with her mother's silver letter opener and nearly fell off the chair as she read.

 _Miss Robertson,_

 _Truthfully, I don't know how to start such a letter though I felt compelled to as we did not speak last I saw you. It hurts me to see how far your family has fallen. From the details I have heard, the death of the judge's wife was an accident. I have taken it upon myself to speak with my grandfather to see if anything can be done so that you may return to where you belong. I should not want this to be the last you ever hear from me. Cordelia, I must confess, this city feels quite desolate without your presence. You must forgive my boldness but I had to be honest. I will write again soon._

 _Sincerely, Marshall Rogers._

Cordelia jolted as the front door closed beneath her as the judge left. Hands trembling, she pulled a blank sheet of stationary from one of the drawers and opened the porcelain inkwell. Marshall Rogers had not forgotten about her, he had not snubbed her. In fact, he was trying to help. Biting the end of her pen, she considered what she would say in reply. A tap came her door. Cordelia jumped to her feet, hiding Marshall's letter behind her back. She cleared her throat.

"Come in, father!"

Dr. Robertson opened the door. "Are you feeling poorly, my dear? You look flushed."

"I was a little warm downstairs but I opened the window up here. Is there something you need?" she rambled, forcing her breathing to slow.

He shook his head and gave a tired smile. "No, I merely wanted to thank you for a lovely meal."

"You're welcome."

He winced as he turned, tripping on the runner out in the hall. Cordelia stepped forward but he held out a hand. "Its my trick hip. I forgot my stick in the parlor downstairs."

"Let me go get it for you," she offered, tucking the letter into her pocket and brushing past him.

After retrieving it, she paused as a knock came at the door. Holding the stick to her side, the thought that she might have to defend herself raced through her mind. A silly idea, too much talk of family feuds had rendered her anxious. She unbolted the door and peered out into the growing night.

"Miss Robertson?"

"Hannah!" Cordelia stepped back, opening the door to let in the housekeeper. "Did you forget something?"

Hannah twisted the edges of her plaid shawl in her hands. "I came to fetch your father to my sister's. It's one of the little ones, they are mighty ill."

"Dee, my bag in the study," her father spoke firmly from the stairs as he limped down, sounding more like his old self for a second. It almost brought tears to her eyes.

"Yes, father."

"Make sure I have all I need in it. Sometimes my mind slips these days and I forget things."

Cordelia hurried to get his medical bag. Hannah was already helping her father into his coat when she returned and handed him his things. "Do you need me to assist you?"

"No. I don't need you out wandering the valley in the dark. Mrs. Macon can help if I need it. Lock the door behind us, Cordelia."

From her bedroom window, Cordelia watched the lantern led cart as it tumbled down the road into the woods. It was the first time she had been truly alone in their new house. Night time sick calls could last anywhere from an hour or till dawn.

Sitting at the mirror beside her bed, she undid the pins in her hair. Black curls fell over her shoulders. It was best to retire early to be well rested for her father should he have a long night. She drew on her cotton nightdress trimmed with eyelet lace and got into bed, leaving a single candle burning on her bedside table. However, once under her covers, her mind spun with all the things that could happen while he was gone. They were so isolated out there. Cordelia recalled that her father kept a revolver from the war in his study. Unable to sleep, she threw a black shawl over her shoulders and tread softly in bare feet down the stairs.

The revolver was in the drawer of his desk. She had no idea how to load or shoot it. Perhaps the mere sight of the weapon would scare away any brigand. As she peered down at it, she imagined Cap Hatfield snatching it from her fingers and turning the muzzle on her. She swallowed hard and clutched it close.

A fire was still burning in the parlor. Cordelia poked it until the embers glowed. Outside, the pair of owls she had heard the evening Cap drove her home cried out to the moon. She settled into the chair by the hearth and decided to wait down there until her father returned. The chime of the grandfather clock in the hall was what woke her first, twelve lonely rings in the empty house. Cordelia sunk deeper into the seat, pulling the shawl around neck.

Pounding horse hooves leading towards their house echoed from outside. Her eyes snapped open. There was no bump and jostle of a cart, this was a single rider. She froze in her seat as footsteps raced up the porch. Cordelia winced at the loud knock at the door, not daring to breathe.

"Miss Robertson!" A deep male voice sounded through the door. "Miss Robertson, I come from your father!"


	6. A Real McCoy

Forgetting her shawl behind in a flurry of movement, Cordelia scurried to the door. A tall young man with narrow blue eyes stood in the light streaming from the house. He snatched the hat from his head, his eyes trailing over her figure. She gaped as she realized the firelight showed right through her nightgown, giving an suggestive silhouette. He cut his eyes away, running a hand over his curly brown hair.

"I sure do apologize for disturbing you, Miss Robertson, but your pap needs somethin' from his study. You see it's my little sister-"

"Of course, what does he need?" she interrupted.

"He gave me this list." The stranger held out a flimsy sheet and Cordelia snatched it from him.

"Please follow me," she instructed, leaving the door open and rushing back to the study.

Her father always kept extra supplies at home in case of an emergency. From the looks of the paper, the child was suffering from a serious case of croup or a flu. The young man followed her into the room and paced awkwardly.

"Does he need me to come as well?" she asked as she put the items into a canvas bag.

"I don't believe so," he replied. She held out the bag out to him, his eyes still evading her figure out of politeness. "Thank you, Miss Robertson. We sure appreciate y'all's help."

"May I ask your name?"

He gave a timid smile. "Jim McCoy, Miss."

Cordelia wrapped her arms around her torso and looked away, the chill from the floor racing up her bare legs. So this was the other side of the famous feud. Now she had met both Hatfield and McCoy.

"Again, real sorry for troublin' you," he continued as they walked back to the foyer.

Cordelia stood behind the door as he trotted down to his horse. "Its no trouble. Ride safe, Mister McCoy."

He gave her a last lingering look that made her face warm with its intensity. Gripping the door knob, she looked away and shut the door, the hooves of his horse thudding away. She retired to her room but stayed awake, staring out the window from her chair and watching the road. It was close to three in the morning when another horse came riding up the walk. Cordelia saw her father's bent figure in the moonlight and raced down to meet him. He limped off the horse, his face drawn with exhaustion.

"Father, let me help you," she called out. She took the horse's reins from him and supported his arm. "How is the child?"

"She'll live. It was a bad case of the croup, she was blue by the time I got there. Mister McCoy had been reluctant to call for a doctor."

Cordelia furrowed her brow. "Why on earth?"

"He believed that God would heal her. It was his wife and Hannah who finally convinced him to call for me. Though thankfully, I do believe I have won his trust. Next time, I pray he'll call for me sooner."

Doctor Robertson excused himself to bed. Cordelia tied the horse's reins to the porch, unsure of what else to do with the animal. She left a bucket of water from the kitchen for it then went up to bed. It seemed as soon as she closed her eyes, sunlight was flooding her room. It was eight o'clock in the morning by the time she had risen and dressed. Her father was still abed and probably would not make it to his practice until noon. Her dark purple dress did nothing for her wan complexion, the restless night showing on her face. Pinning her mother's ivory cameo at her neck and sweeping her curls up into a braided knot at the back of her head, she ventured downstairs.

The kitchen was quiet, Hannah having yet to arrive after the long night. Cordelia found some biscuits and fresh butter. She brewed a pot of tea for herself, saving what coffee was left for her father. Hannah would have to go shopping in town soon. She was so busy taking inventory of what they would need for the pantry that she did not realize that Hannah had let herself in. The middle aged woman looked as raw as Cordelia felt. She gave her a faint smile and nodded towards the tea.

"It's a fresh pot," Cordelia offered kindly. "May I pour you a cup?"

Hannah removed her bonnet and shawl with a sigh. "Don't you worry yourself, Miss Robertson. Your family has done more than enough for mine this night."

"I am only glad to hear the child is well."

Sinking into a kitchen chair, Hannah lifted her eyebrows at her. "Only thanks to your pap. He's a miracle worker."

Cordelia gripped the side of the table and offered a vague smile. "Yes, he was born to be a doctor."

"My nephew drove me here to fetch the horse your father borrowed last night," Hannah continued, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she poured herself some tea. "He asked if he could see you a moment to thank you."

"Your nephew?"

A spark of amusement lit Hannah's tired gaze. "The young man who came calling last night."

Cordelia scoffed and smoothed out her skirts. "I am afraid I gave him quite a shock last night."

"What do you mean?"

"He must think me horribly indecent." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I answered the door in my nightgown."

Hannah bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. "You probably rendered poor Jim speechless. You were most likely the prettiest thing that country boy has ever seen."

Cordelia shook her head. "Thank you but back in Springfield there were far prettier girls than me."

"But you ain't in Springfield no more, sugar. Go on then, he's waiting for you in the parlor."

Jim McCoy was standing at the hearth, studying the landscape painting hanging over the mantle. Cordelia cleared her throat as she entered the room and Jim whipped towards her.

"My mother painted it," Cordelia commented, folding her hands in front of her. "Do you like it?"

Jim gave a half smile. "It's mighty pretty, Miss Robertson."

"Yes, she was very talented."

"Where this is place?"

Cordelia's gaze went to the painting. A snowy field overlooking a dark forest in the distance, the sky gray as charcoal. Despite what it depicted, it always made her feel cosy as though she were snug in a warm house looking out over a wintry landscape.

"My home. Massachusetts." The words cut her to the heart, leaving her homesick.

Jim studied her, his eyes soft with understanding. "It sure looks like a nice place to live."

Cordelia quelled the emotion and swiftly changed the subject. "Mister McCoy, I want to apologize if I offended you last night with the state of my dress-"

"Oh no, it was my fault disturbin' you so late," he cut her off. "If I made you feel uncomfortable-"

"Not at all, Mister McCoy, you were a perfect gentleman. I am thankful to hear your sister is well."

"Mendin', yes."

A silence descended filled by only the birds outside the open window. The horse she had left by the porch the night before nickered impatiently. Cordelia took a leading step towards the foyer. "I wasn't sure what to do with your horse last night, I hope I didn't do it any harm tethering her outside. I'm afraid I don't know much about caring for animals."

Jim followed her as they walked towards the door. "I'm sure he was fine. One wouldn't expect a lady as yourself to know such things."

"A lady as myself?" She grinned over her shoulder. She had heard that same from phrase from Cap Hatfield not two weeks prior. Perhaps she was as useless to life in the Tug River Valley as it was to her.

Jim looked away bashfully. "Well, you are somethin' different then what we're used to in girls 'round these parts."

"Meaning I don't ride well or hunt?"

They stopped at the railing, standing across from each other. Jim was tall and broadly built, a man who worked land. His hands were as rough as Cap's. So different from Marshall Rogers and the other well bred boys she had grown up alongside.

"Them things aren't always what's important in a girl though," Jim continued. "God fearing and faithful to their families, that's what matters to me."

How little he knew of her. On the outside, she certainly seemed to possess those qualities but her heart betrayed her. She was angry both with her father and God, unwilling to let go of those grudges.

"Well, I need to get back to my fields." Jim walked down to the steps and untied the horse.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

"Oh no, I fear I've trampled on yalls hospitality enough." Propping his hat on his head, he mounted the horse and cut the animal around to face her where she stood on the porch. He tipped the edge of his hat to her, eyes drinking her in. "I sure do hope to see you again."

"Perhaps until we can find a boy to tend them, would it be possible if you could come sometimes and see to our animals? My father would pay you for your services, of course," she blurted impulsively, laying a hand on the wooden column beside her.

Jim gave a quiet smile. "That would suit me fine. I'll speak to your father on Sunday after service. Good day, Miss Robertson."

She watched him ride away and released her held breath. After the night before when she had felt so isolated without her father, the thought of occasionally having another man around made her feel more secure. Something about Jim McCoy made her feel safe. But safe from what?

 _ _Hatfields murdering Union veterans.__ She thought with a grimace, Cap Hatfield's half blind face springing to mind and leaving her cold.


	7. Sunday Service

Jim spied the fine straw bonnet on the opposite side of the church. He tried to focus on the hymnal as the congregation sang but was impossibly distracted. She turned her face to her father and spoke something quietly, the angles of her high cheek bones illuminated by the clear, morning light. A fleeting smile fluttered on her lips, so rare and quick on her somber mouth. She carried an air of perpetual disappointment, polite but withdrawn. From what his aunt had told him, Miss Cordelia Robertson had much to be disappointed about in life. The moment she had walked into the church linked in arms with the doctor, Calvin had poked Jim in the ribs and called her an uppity Yank. Their mother smacked him on the back of the head as though he were still a boy.

"That's the child of the man who saved your sister," Sally McCoy hissed. "Mind your manners."

The singing ceased but Jim didn't look away. Certainly there were prettier girls in the county, but Cordelia Robertson was an entirely different species. She was like the damsels in poems they had been forced to read in school. Lofty and ethereal; a true lady. Even when she had stood in the lamplight in only her night gown, he'd been speechless. He struck the image from his mind, refusing to allow her to be defiled even privately.

"Go in peace, serve the Lord," the pastor announced.

"Thanks be to God," the congregation responded.

Caught on the opposite end of the pew, Jim could only watch as she passed down the aisle. His other brother, Tolbert, glanced back at Jim and smirked. "Your tongue's hangin' out, Jim-"

"Shut up." Jim shoved him as they moved forward.

Tolbert chuckled, brushing off his hat and covering his ruddy brown hair with it as they emerged from the chapel. "You best be setting your sights a little lower, brother. You won't be getting next to the likes of her."

He glanced back towards the Tug Fork Church of Christ. Miss Robertson and her father were still talking with the reverend.

"Jim, we're leavin' without you," one of his younger sister called out.

"Go on then," he replied, shooing her ahead. "I've got some business in town."

Tolbert laughed cruelly. Jim never should have mentioned Cordelia to his family when they had asked after her. He should have shrugged and said nothing. Of course his brothers had seen right through him. Jim was too honest in both his words and his face. If he felt something, it showed. And Cordelia Robertson certainly made him feel something. Though he wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

He approached slowly, rehearsing in his brain what he had prepared to say to the Robertsons. He heard the doctor thank the preacher for the sermon. Cordelia glanced in his direction and met his eyes. She offered him a nod. Jim froze, grasping his hat in his hands. She murmured something to her father and motioned demurely in his direction. The gentleman noticed Jim and offered a charming smile.

"Mister McCoy! Good to see you again," Doctor Robertson exclaimed, hobbling over to him with his walking stick and daughter at his side.

Jim met them halfway. "Mornin', sir. Glad to see you too."

"Hows your sister? I wasn't able to ask your parents at service. You be sure to tell them to see me immediately should she relapse."

"Thank you, she is feelin' better each day," Jim replied, his gaze drifting over to Cordelia then snapping back to her father. "I'm supposin' your daughter already spoke to you about me lookin after your animals."

"Yes, she did. I think its a splendid idea. Your aunt insists on walking herself home most nights. I would feel better if she had an escort now and then. When can you start?"

"Father, Mister McCoy has his harvest to reap right now," Cordelia interjected.

"But I'm sure my pap can spare me now and then. Its the least we could do after all yalls help the other evening."

Doctor Robertson nodded gravely. "I certainly wouldn't want to keep a man from his occupation. You must forgive me for my ignorance, I was raised in a city by city folks. There are a lot of things both Cordelia and I are getting used to around here."

"Don't worry about it none, I have four other brothers who can handle a few hours without me," Jim pressed, hoping the man wouldn't change his mind.

"Well, as long as your father gives permission. I'll pay you well, of course. Come by sometime this week in the evening and we'll discuss it."

Jim struggled to keep his face straight. "Thank you, sir. Here, let me help you to your wagon."

He gave Doctor Robertson a hand as he got onto the cart. Jim rushed to the other side where Cordelia stood. Being so close to her left him feeling lightheaded.

"Thank you, Mister McCoy." She broke the silence while her father situated the reins. "I'm glad we'll be seeing more of you."

He didn't know if she said it out of politeness or if she really meant it. It didn't matter much, the words from her made him breathless. Gently supporting her elbow, he helped her into the cart.

"Good day, Mister McCoy. I'll see you this week," Doctor Robertson called out as he snapped the reins.

"Good day," Cordelia spoke quietly so that only Jim could hear her, her eyes skittering over his face.

Jim stepped back and watched the cart ramble down Main Street. Perching his hat on his head, he took a shaky breath. His gaze was drawn towards the saloon. Jim Vance and Cap Hatfield were mounting their horses out front. There would be no trouble with them it being a Sunday, but Jim felt like starting some when he noticed Cap watching Cordelia. The younger Hatfield brother tipped his hat to her and Cordelia looked away.

Jim continued to glare at the men as they passed the church yard. Vance ignored him but Cap shot him one of his cocky grins, eyes like ice. Jim had no doubt his thoughts were playing across his face at that moment. Cordelia Robertson didn't need to get anywhere near the likes of a Hatfield and Jim would make damn sure of that.


	8. Mirrors

Her father's episodes had become less frequent, leaving Cordelia feeling comfortable seeing him off to work alone. Afternoons were spent with Hannah in the kitchen. Cordelia had insisted on it, there wasn't much else for her to do around the house. When it came to shopping day, she accompanied Hannah into town to learn how to choose the right ingredients for a well stocked pantry.

"It still don't feel right having you in there with me, getting all covered in flour and lard." Hannah clicked her tongue. "After all, you're the one paying me."

Cordelia smiled as she set a bag of corn meal in her basket. Most of the families around them were nearly self sufficient when it came to food. Cordelia was sure hers was the only one who depended on what they could buy in town. She had spoken with Jim about buying a cow and a few chickens. He had promised to look into the matter for them. Not that she ever saw herself gathering eggs or milking an animal. However, it would be a good investment.

"Come wintertime, there may be sometimes you can't make it to our home in bad weather. I'd like to know how to feed us properly."

Hannah sighed. "A lady like you, it just ain't right."

Cordelia was quietly wearying of being treated like a china doll in a world where such things counted so little. She was still awaiting word from Marshall Rogers after she had written him a reply. There was a chance they wouldn't have to stay there much longer. She ached for the day when she could kick the dust of that scrubby little valley off her boots.

"Now here, let me finish this and you go see to your pap. I'm still needing a four pound bag of red beans and tub of lard but then I'll be right along," Hannah insisted as she took the basket from Cordelia.

Town was relatively quiet that afternoon. Harvest kept all the farmers and their sons in the field. They hadn't seen Jim in several days. Cordelia was surprised to find she missed his quiet presence as he tended their horses in the barn. He had even taken a meal with them one evening at her father's insistence. Though he had kept up a pleasant conversation with her father, she had felt his eyes on her throughout the meal only to look away when she would glance over.

Her boots clicked down the wooden sidewalk, her mind wandering over Marshall Roger's letter and Jim McCoy's subtle attentions. Jim was a good man but he had to know that she would never court a farmer. Besides, she would be of no use as a wife to him.

"You keep on moseying and daydreamin' like that, you're bound to get trampled by a cart."

Cordelia snapped from her thoughts and halted in her steps. Leaning against a post outside the office of the Justice of Peace, Cap Hatfield stood with his arms across his chest. He smirked and tipped his hat.

"Mister Hatfield," she nodded briefly, trying to walk past him.

Cap followed, tucking his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. "Miss Robertson. How's the doc?"

"He's well."

"I saw you leaving church services the other week."

"Really?"

He chuckled. "Yes, thought you saw me too but perhaps I was mistook."

He wasn't mistaken, she had just ignored him. "I'm afraid I don't recall."

"How are you likin' things 'round here?"

No matter how she sped up her steps, he kept pace. "I'm adjusting."

Cap made a low sound in his throat as they made it to Doctor Robertson's office. He stepped in front of the door to face her. "And it looks like you have been hearing tales about town."

Cordelia refused to meet his eyes. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I believe you do. You made up your mind about me and my family mighty quick. Though I hear you be inviting my Uncle Wall over for supper now and then. Meals made by that McCoy kinswoman-"

"Let me assure you that I want nothing to do with your little local arguments," she snapped, losing her polite cool and fuming up at him.

Cap grinned, studying her with amusement. "That subject sure brought the color to your face."

"Would you please move out of the way?"

"I want to know somethin'. Why didn't you ask me yourself about our __little local argument__? Did you ever suppose there were two sides to a story?"

"Mister Hatfield, what color do you think my father wore in the war?"

Cap shifted uncomfortably and glanced over her shoulder, his blind eye wandering as though it still had sight. "I should expect blue-"

"And I hear that your family murdered another member of this community for fighting on the same side as my father. What am I supposed to think?"

Pressing his lips together, Cap drew in a slow breath. "I'd have hoped you wouldn't let that soil your view of me. I wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. Hell, I was only a baby when it happened."

Cordelia cut her eyes away, heat pricking the back of her neck when she noticed folks watching their public dispute. "Well, it doesn't matter now. I am grateful for your help the other day-"

"Don't trouble yourself with your airs and manners," he growled moving out of the way of the door but a step closer to her. The scent of saw dust drifted off his clothes. "You may have most folk in this town fooled but not me. You're scared."

Pride wounded, she glared back at him. "Scared of what exactly?"

He broke into an icy smile, the same one he had given Hannah. "Scared that you are no better than the rest of us, scared of becoming like us. You can't hide behind your silk that easy, at least not from me."

Her anger and pride were forgotten and suddenly Cordelia felt as though she were standing stark naked in the middle of the street. "Don't- don't presume to know anything about me. You _don't_ know me."

Jutting out his chin, he gave a sharp nod. "That might be true but the same can be said of you. Don't act like you know anything about me or my kin."

Cordelia clasped her hands in front of her and turned her stare to the door. Cap opened it before she could do it for herself. "Good day, Mister Hatfield."

"Good __bye__ , Miss Robertson. You won't be bothered by me again." With that he strode across the street.

Despite herself, she stood watching him as he untied his horse. A couple of women passed by whispering with curious glances. Cordelia escaped into her father's practice. She hated to admit it but the half blind, rough handed fool had gotten to her. What he had said was true. He had held up a mirror and the reflection she saw wasn't easy to stomach.


	9. Lucky at Cards

After filling his glass once more, Cap glanced at his hand of cards. He threw down an ace while keeping his expression as dead as a river bed in sweltering July. Jim Vance swore under his breath as his nephew collected the money between them. Lias 'Good' Hatfield peered over his fiddle and whistled low.

"Shoot boy, how many hands you won now?" he laughed.

"Shut up, Good," Jim grumbled, feeding the dog at his feet a piece of jerky.

Cap lifted his dark eyebrows. "Better to be lucky at cards than lucky in love."

He threw back a shot of whiskey and poured himself another one. Smacking the glass down on the table, he ran his fingers through his blond hair and pocketed the money.

Jim Vance studied him thoughtfully. "What's love got to do with anything?"

"Got to do with nothin." Cap sniffed, counting the bills in his hands.

Jim Vance nodded solemnly. "Maybe nothing. Or maybe something to do with that Yankee gal I saw you making eyes at the other Sunday."

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, Jim," Cap grumbled under his breath as he shuffled the deck. "You up for another hand?"

Good settled the instrument on his knee, ignoring the drunken argument taking place on the other side of Mate Creek Tavern. "I heard tell about them Yankees, the new doctor and his pretty little daughter."

Cap scoffed, shaking his head but not looking up. "What you hear?"

"Seems I heard something recent," Jim leaned forward and scratched his dog between the ears. "Yesterday maybe, heard Cap had himself a heated argument with the gal in the middle of town. In front of God and everyone."

"You spoke to her?" Good gaped.

Cap sneered at Good. "What of it? She's nothin' special."

"What was you arguing about?"

Cap didn't replied but started to deal out the deck. "Can someone get us another bottle?"

Jim nodded towards Good, the man taking the hint and going to the bar. Jim Vance combed his fingers through his scraggly, gray beard. Cap lifted his cards and stared at them blankly as though his mind was wandering elsewhere.

"You lookin' for female company, I suggest keeping yourself to the whore houses for now, boy. See what followin' horndog philanderin' has done to your brother? Taking up with a McCoy-"

"I wasn't looking for company, Jim," Cap snarled.

"Then what was you lookin for? A girl like that is trouble, especially for men like us. Besides, I heard she got a McCoy working in her fine house as a maid or cook or such."

Good slapped the bottle on the table with a laugh. "What she need a cook fer? Never heard of a woman who couldn't cook for her own home. Don't worry yourself about her then, Cap. Girl like that not much good in these parts."

Jim took a draw from his cigar. "I bet ol' Cap could think of a few things she'd be good for-"

Cap gave Jim's chair a savage kick from the side, scooting him out of the way. He slapped the cards on the table and grabbed the bottle. Jim and Good laughed as he stumbled towards the door of the tavern, dodging drunks and prostitutes reeking of cheap perfume.

He still hadn't smelled the same perfume Cordelia Robertson wore on any of the soiled doves around town. But she had been wearing it that day in town when they had quarreled so bitterly. It had been just as intoxicating, even as she had shamed him and his family.

He leaned up against the railing on the porch outside and took a swig of whiskey from the bottle. The harvest moon was rising full. All signs were pointing towards a rough winter. Where the Robertsons lived out of town, Cap wondered how well she'd handle the cold and isolation. He threw back another swallow with a groan.

He had to find a way to get that woman off his mind. They had only spoken twice, it made no sense. Maybe it was how different she seemed but at the same time wasn't. She thought she had everyone fooled but Cap had made sure she knew that he saw right through her uppity ways. She wasn't gentile, she was frightened and angry. Everything from the coldness in her gray eyes to her forced smiles, she was livid at the hand she'd been dealt. As angry as he felt when he thought about his own family and the wrongs they had suffered from the hands of the McCoys. Whether she was willing to admit it or not, they were just alike. And it burned him up.

A rider galloped through town. Cap meandered over to the front post under the tavern sign as his older brother tied up the horse, his handsome face red and drawn taut with emotion. He smoothed his golden hair underneath his hat and stomped up the steps to his brother. Johnse was impulsive, charming and constantly getting himself into trouble. Completely different from pragmatic Cap with his sober perspective on life. But Johnse was blood and that was all that mattered.

"You look like you need this." Cap held out the bottle to him with a chuckle. Johnse grabbed the whiskey and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth and came to stand opposite of Cap on the porch. "What's wrong with you?"

"Roseanna left," he coughed out. "Just up and left, not a word to me."

Cap would have breathed a sigh of relief if he hadn't been standing in front of his brother. Best thing the McCoy girl could have done. "She's been living with us for over a year. Were you plannin' on marryin' her? You know pap never would have allowed it-"

"Of course I know it," Johnse snarled. "I'm just...I don't know, I wish I could have talked to her first."

Cap scoffed. "And said what? Be honest, Johnse, you've been playin that girl like a fiddle. Feeding her lies about runnin' off and marrying. Why didn't you?"

Johnse didn't reply. He didn't have to, Cap already knew the answer. Because Hatfield blood ran thick and what didn't sit well with their patriarch father, didn't fly. Especially if it had anything to do with the McCoys. The romance had been doomed from the start.

"What the hell do you know about women anyhow?" Johnse groused.

Cap barked out a laugh and motioned towards the bottle. "Nothin' at all. Go ahead and drown your sorrows, brother."


	10. Honor Bound

The clay mixing bowl shattered, corn meal and milk spilling across the floor. Cordelia jumped out of the way, spilling tea on her blouse. Hannah gasped and fell to her knees to pick up the shards.

"Wait, let me help." Cordelia knelt down and handed her a handkerchief. "Pick them up with this, don't cut yourself."

"I am so sorry, what a mess-"

"It's fine, Hannah. We have plenty of bowls."

Cordelia ran to the sink and pumped water into a pot. Carefully, the two of them collected the rest of the pieces and mopped up the mess.

Hannah sighed heavily. "What a waste. And look, I've gone and ruined your pretty clothes."

"This is nothing, Hannah. Don't fret over it."

Cordelia dampened another kitchen cloth and dabbed the stain on her shirt. Hannah moved to the sink with the bowl of dirtied water. Morning sun washed over her face highlighting shadows of worry under her dark eyes, her mouth drawn in a tight line. Again, the widow sighed.

"Is something the matter, Hannah?" Cordelia asked, her concern piqued.

Hannah turned towards her, blinking as though she had awoken from a dream. "It's nothin', darlin'. Just family matters."

Cordelia looked away. Family matters with the McCoys could very well mean problems with the Hatfields. After her interaction with Cap in the street, Cordelia had decided to distance herself as far as possible from the feud. It wasn't worth having an opinion on something that she might not even remember in a month. In a few weeks, she might be packing to leave for Massachusetts and be back in time for Christmas. She was still waiting for word from Marshall Rogers but she had hope.

Cordelia changed into a clean dress upstairs and pinned the curls that had come loose from the knot at her neck. She glanced out the window towards their small barn. Jim McCoy's horse was tied up outside it. In the doorway, Hannah was wagging her finger at him with her face stern. Jim threw up his hands and strode into the barn. Hannah shook her head and planted her hands on her hips, continuing to speak to him. Cordelia looked away, quelling her curiosity. It wasn't any of her business. Best to stay out of it.

Her eyes trailed towards the advertisement on her desk. She had seen it in town, it was for the sale of a cow. She still wanted to be able to have their own milk instead of paying Hannah to bring a portion of her own. She didn't know the family selling the animal so she decided to bring it to Jim's attention. Around lunchtime, she went down to the kitchen. Hannah was trapped deep in her thoughts as she sliced up a pork pie for them. She set aside a piece for Jim and Cordelia offered to bring it to him with a fresh cup of cider. Hannah thanked her, staring into the piece of dough she was kneading. Laying the advertisement on the tray with the food, she carried it out to the barn.

The day was bright white with the sun trying to break the light layer of clouds overhead. The trees were loosing their leaves, golden green foliage trembling to the ground around the barn. Jim's sleeves were rolled to the elbow, his motions jagged as he cleaned a stall. He didn't notice her until she was almost next to him. He straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow, his forehead furrowed in thought. The deep hollow of his throat and arch of collar bone glowed with perspiration.

"We thought you might like something to eat," Cordelia explained, unsure of his frown.

Jim held out a dusty hand and took the plate from her. "Thank you kindly, Miss Robertson."

"You have been with us for sometime now," she continued, holding the advertisement at her side as she set down the tray. "I think it would be appropriate if you wanted to call me by my first name."

Setting the shovel to the side, he gave her a weary smile. "Alright then, Miss Cordelia."

"I wanted to ask you something. I saw this in town. Do you remember me mentioning the purchase of a cow?" She held out the yellowed sheet.

Jim took it and studied the text, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed with a nod. "I trust this family and their livestock. They take good care of their animals."

"Will you speak to them for us? We will pay the price they are asking."

He grinned to himself and peered up from the paper. "You plannin' on learnin' to milk a cow, Miss Cordelia?"

She looked away and wet her lips with a laugh. "I'm not sure about that, Mister McCoy."

"You can call me Jim." He rubbed the back of his neck, his smile fading.

Cordelia moved towards the horse in the opposite stall, her back to him as she rubbed the animal's nose. "You must think very little of me, Jim, not possessing the proper skills for life out here."

"A body can learn such things," he ventured quietly.

She didn't want to though. She wanted to be gone from that place and never look back. He had to know it but from the way he looked at her, he wasn't willing to accept it. Turning towards him, she found that very look burning in his blue eyes. Skittish as a colt, she glanced away.

"I'm concerned about Hannah. Something is disturbing her today." Cordelia quickly changed the subject.

Jim shifted uncomfortably and swallowed the last of the cider. "I'm not surprised."

"Do you know whats wrong?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"I suspect its about my sister Roseanna."

Cordelia had heard the name before from Hannah. She was the McCoy sister who had been living in exile for a year because of her romance with Cap's older brother, Johnse. She had never met either of them and wasn't sure if she had the desire.

"Is she alright?"

"She's healthy as far as I know, living at my Aunt Betty's for now. I'm sure you knew... Aunt Hannah must have told you where she lived before-"

"Yes, yes," Cordelia interrupted, waving her hand lightly as though brushing away a fly. She didn't want the untidy subject brought up. No doubt the girl had ruined herself all for a man who had no intention of marrying her. She winced as she guessed what had happened. "Is she..."

Jim grimaced. "She'll be having her baby next year."

Cordelia pressed her lips together, wishing she had never brought it up. Surely the baby's father would have to be held responsible. "Can anything be done?"

"Something already has."

"What?"

Jim leaned against the gate to the stall. "My brothers and I, we went out and found Johnse. We have him holed up in the woods."

Cordelia gaped. "Held against his will?"

"S'pose you could say that."

"What are you going to do? Make him marry her? Is he unwilling to make an honest woman of her?"

Jim shook his head with a growl. "No, hes willing but my brother Tolbert isn't."

"What are you planning on doing?" Cordelia's heart dropped to her stomach as Jim looked away. "Tell me."

"Tolbert wants him executed."

"You mean lynched," Cordelia scoffed. "It seems to me like the situation would resolve itself if the two were just allowed to marry."

"But our father and his father have forbidden it."

Cordelia shook her head. "The shame of a child from wedlock, you wish that on your sister? And the murder of an innocent man?"

"There is an honest man willing to marry her, but she believes herself in love with Johnse."

" _Believes herself to be_?" Cordelia up backed a step. "Probably because they are. You would prevent such a union?"

Jim gripped the shovel and dug into the stall. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?"

"This is about honor, our family's honor. Things are different here than up north."

Cordelia clasped her hands in front of her. "What about your honor, Jim? Think about how that will look after you spill the blood of an innocent man. You mustn't let this happen. Wash your hands of it and walk-"

"I need to get back to work, Miss Robertson," Jim cut her off, his voice low and threatening as he threw a shovel of hay over his shoulder.

Cordelia turned her heel and marched back to the house. Heart pounding, she stopped in the kitchen. Hannah was outside taking the sheets off the line. Pumping more water into the sink, Cordelia rubbed her hands with a bar of lye soap. The whole sordid business between the two families left her feeling dirty. She needed to get back to Springfield.


	11. Autumn Fog

"I'm not sayin' what he did was right but they damn near killed the boy," a familiar voice echoed from Doctor Robertson's private office.

Cordelia halted in front of the practice door, closing it softly behind her. She held a basket filled with cold tongue, sour pickles and biscuits for her father's lunch. Hannah had been in the same gray mood as the previous day. Reluctant to ask about the situation, Cordelia had offered to drive herself into town and bring her father his lunch. Jim had recently taught her how to drive their wagon. He hadn't come to see to the horses that day. Cordelia dreaded seeing him again, unsure of what had happened to the captive Hatfield who had shamed the McCoy sister.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Wall," her father replied evenly, "But I don't see what that has to do with me."

"Not you, Elias. I don't want to intrude on your affairs, I just want to warn you. The McCoy woman who keeps house for you, you shouldn't have any trouble from her. Just keep an eye on Randall McCoy's son."

Cordelia froze as the men walked out into the office. Judge Hatfield met her eyes and looked away with a grimace. Her father plastered a smile on his weathered face.

"Dee, I didn't know you were dropping by today," he exclaimed a tad too brightly.

Cordelia frowned. "I brought you your lunch. Judge, is your nephew well?"

Judge Hatfield blinked up at her. "What do you know about it, Miss Robertson?"

She shrugged and set the basket on the table. "Only a little."

"He's safe now. My brother went to fetch him last night only just in time."

"You knew, Cordelia?" Her father clucked his tongue. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't know anything for sure, just whispers I heard from Jim and Hannah."

"You sure do hear a lot of whisperin', don't you, Miss Robertson." Judge Hatfield gave a dry chuckle as he set his hat on his white head. He passed by her towards the door. "I'll be saying good day then."

"Please tell me, was Jim McCoy among them who was holding your nephew?" she asked tonelessly.

"Yes, he was." Judge Hatfield opened the door. "Jim isn't a bad sort like his brother, Tolbert. But I feel it would be wise if you stayed away from him just the same."

Once they were alone, her father sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't realize what a strange place this was when I brought you here. Perhaps we never should have come at all."

Cordelia's posture snapped straight and she clenched her teeth, marching past him into his office. "We had no other choice, father."

The bright blue autumn sky gleamed against the window pane, a shaft of sunlight highlighting the open log book on her father's desk. She unpacked the basket, the biscuits still warm from the oven. Her eyes strayed over to the book. Numbers were scribbled down the page cataloging business expenses and their balance in the bank. The debts were growing higher and the balance thinning out. Cordelia had known it would happen eventually as they wouldn't be making the same living they had in a prominent eastern city. Some of their patients had even paid bills in corn, ham and eggs. But the dip in their savings was steep. It scared her.

Doctor Robertson came around the side of the desk and Cordelia focused on the basket again. He snapped the book closed and tucked it into his desk. Reaching out, he picked up a biscuit and took a bite.

"No matter what the Judge says, we can't let go of Hannah Macon. Her cooking is exceptional. Don't you agree?"

Cordelia nodded without looking at him. "Yes, but what about Jim McCoy?"

He sank into his chair, rubbing his hip with a wince. "Has the boy ever made you feel...uncomfortable?"

Cordelia shook her head. "He's always behaved gentlemanly."

"Yes and he does his job well. He's a hardworking, honorable young man. That's all I need to know. Not all this funny, backwoods business about family feuds," he chuckled. "Why don't you sit down and eat with me, my dear?"

Cordelia gave a vague smile and shook her head, turning to leave. "I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite."

Her father coughed and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. "I'm afraid I will be home late again this evening. If you want to eat supper and have Hannah leave some food for me, I'd be much obliged."

Cordelia nodded. It was the second time that week he had come in late. The first time, she had met him at the door. She had paced for hours, praying he hadn't had another episode and was drugged up asleep in his office or worse, fallen off his horse riding home. However, he had come in clear eyed but weary. Alcohol was on his breath but he wasn't drunk. He said he had a case at the local saloon and he was too tired for supper.

Cordelia waited again that evening for him, unwilling to go to bed until he was safe home. This time he trudged in with his face red, his speech slurring. She rarely had seen her father drunk. He excused himself and went to bed without dinner.

It was already November and still no letter had arrived from the senator's son in Massachusetts. Jim had been polite but avoiding her eye since the incident with the Hatfields. Even Hannah was withdrawn as the weather turned damp and dreary with late autumn fog. Uneasiness crept over Cordelia. The more often her father came in drunk and sullen, the more convinced she became that things would only get worse.


	12. Election Day

Cordelia smoothed her hands over her dark green afternoon dress, the seams following the shape her corset and down to the fashionably narrow skirt with a modest bustle at the back. The cloth wasn't expensive but she knew the style would make her conspicuous to the rest of the crowd. Lifting the netted veil over her eyes, she adjusted the ladylike top hat.

What these heathens thought of her was irrelevant. She wasn't the one murdering and kidnapping or drinking herself into a state. If they thought she was uppity, then let them. Perhaps they were right.

"Daughter, we are running late as it is!" Her father shouted up to her from the bottom of the stairs.

Snatching her draw string purse, she descended the steps without hurry. "Father, it is merely a country election day, hardly the event of the year."

"You sound just like your mother," he chuckled as he took her hand.

"And she would have been right."

They jostled down the rutted road to Blackberry Creek. The air was chilled and woods misty, the sun hidden behind a heavy layer of clouds. Strains of music drifted towards them through the nearly naked trees as did the raucous laughter of undoubtedly drunken men.

As they pulled up to a clearing where a cluster of tents and stands were pitched, Cordelia couldn't help but notice the wagons with vats of moonshine. A character with a full beard and bleary eyes was dancing on a cart while a woman hollered at him to get down. As they drove by, the drunk gave Cordelia a bawdy wink. Cordelia lifted her eyebrows at the woman. The petite brunette had done her best to look respectable, except for her wild curls left loose. The girl lifted her nose and pursed her lips haughtily.

"How long do we have to stay here?" Cordelia hissed under her breath, already feeling her patience waning.

"Be polite, Dee," Doctor Robertson growled. "The longer we live here, the worse your pride gets."

Cordelia exhaled heavily through her nose and stared down at her gloved hands. Her father brought the horses to a stop and helped her to the ground. Ignoring the stares they received, Doctor Robertson caught sight of the McCoys and approached them. Cordelia stood dutifully beside him.

"Doctor Robertson, good to see you." Mister McCoy shook his hand, his sober expression shaded by a full brimmed hat and a graying beard.

"You as well. Missus McCoy, how is your daughter?"

"Much better, thank you."

Her father motioned to her at his arm. "My daughter, Cordelia."

"Nice to meet you." Cordelia met Missus McCoy's dark eyes and found the same even temper as her son Jim and sister Hannah. Mister McCoy nodded to her, his forehead furrowing into a frown before he looked away.

"Our son Jim has been mighty grateful for the work you've given him," Missus McCoy broke the uneasy silence. "He's spoken kindly of both of you. As has my sister."

"They have both become indispensable to us," Cordelia replied.

Mister McCoy stared down at her high button boots. "Though I can't promise Jim will be able to be with you folks for much longer. He's been workin' towards procuring a piece of his own land."

"I should think so, he'll do well for himself. But we'll be sad to lose him," Doctor Robertson smiled at Missus McCoy.

"Marry soon, I expect too. Young man that he is, needs a God fearin' woman who ain't afraid of hard work," Mister McCoy continued, briefly glancing up at Cordelia, his gaze full of criticism.

Doctor Robertson chuckled. "I'm sure he won't have trouble finding such a mate. He's a credit to you both."

Missus McCoy gripped her husband's arm as though to keep him from speaking out of turn. From the way he nearly sneered at Cordelia, she could only assume his opinion of her. Spoiled and untried in their hard way of life, she would never do as a wife for his son. Cordelia cut her eyes away to the tent where platforms had been set up for dancing. Her heart dropped to her stomach with dread as Jim strode towards them. His shy smile was only for her and in clear view of his disapproving father.

"Here is the man himself. We were just talking about you, my boy," Doctor Robertson crowed as Jim joined them and shook his hand. "I was telling your parents what a credit you are to them."

"Thank you, sir," Jim nodded.

"And I was just tellin' them you will be leavin' work with them soon. Come spring when you will start working your own acres-"

"Randall." Missus McCoy cut off her husband with a blush rising to her round cheeks.

Cordelia looked away, embarrassed as Sally McCoy was by the scene. Jim rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, his jaw loose as he tried to think of a reply.

"As it should be, of course!" Her father declared, always ready to come to the rescue in awkward social situations. He had an art for it. "I'll be happy to hear of your success."

"Thank you," Jim replied, his eyes trailing over to Cordelia. "Miss Robertson, may I ask for a dance?"

"Oh, I don't know if-"

"Jim, you need to be getting to town for business," Mister McCoy rumbled.

"Surely the two of them can have one dance, Randall," his wife corrected him with a weak grin.

Cordelia looked back at Jim and nodded hesitantly. The farmer's son offered her the crook of his arm and peered up at her father as though for permission.

"Go on then, don't worry about me." Doctor Robertson smoothed his thick mustache and motioned to the musicians.

Once away from their parents, Cordelia let out a sigh of relief. Jim glanced over his shoulder towards them with a grimace. "I sure do apologize for that-"

"Oh no, please," Cordelia interrupted with a breathy laugh. "Your mother is lovely."

"Thank you."

The fiddle and banjo slowed from a jig to a bastardized waltz. Cordelia was thankful, she didn't know how to dance their country rounds. With a modest amount of space between them, Jim rested his hand lightly at her waist, her gloved fingers held in his as they moved between the other couples.

"I don't believe your father likes me very much," Cordelia ventured with an anxious chuckle.

Jim winced. "Don't let my pap bother you. He don't mean no harm."

"I guess I don't meet his expectations."

"You're just not anything he's used to in a woman." Jim gave a nervous half smile. "Not really what many of us are used to around these parts."

"He said you were to marry soon." Cordelia found herself saying before she could stop herself.

Jim colored. "Both of them hope it sooner than later. Though until I can get myself settled and able to provide, I don't know many girls who would have me."

"Forgive me if I'm too bold, but any woman would be privileged to be married to a man such as you, Jim McCoy."

His gaze snapped back to her, eyes lit with hope as he studied her face intently. The corner of his lip lifted and his eyebrows arched. Cordelia glanced away, hoping he couldn't feel her pulse race through the kid leather glove covering her wrist. As she did, she caught sight of a figure leaning against a tub of moonshine strapped to a wagon.

Cap Hatfield took a swig of beer from his glass, his half blind gaze as honed on her as a target. He blinked and looked away, picking up the shot gun resting against the wagon wheel and perching it on his shoulders. Cordelia studied his slow paced gait as he meandered away. The music stopped.

"Cordelia-"

Cordelia pulled away as the dancing ceased. "Thank you for the dance, Mister McCoy-"

"Cordelia, I told you it would be fine if you called me Jim." He reached out, fingers brushing her wrist as though he were fighting the urge to pull her back to his arms.

Cordelia nodded. "Thank you, but I'm just not sure what your family would think of such familiarity between us. I really must find my father. Thank you for the dance."

She found the doctor waiting outside the tent to cast his ballot for the local elections. He was speaking with a dour looking older man and his wife. The woman was dressed fashionably for the area though not perhaps to Springfield standards.

Not willing to trap herself in another forced conversation, Cordelia meandered among the different stands selling their wares and tried to distract herself from the thought of Jim's attentions and Cap's stares. Pausing by a table with jars of pickle vegetables, she jolted at the sound of a shot gun. Hoots of excitement rose up and Cordelia saw where a shooting contest was taking place.

"Miss, would you like some okra?" the woman at the stand asked her.

Cordelia blinked back at her and nodded without thinking. Mindlessly handing over the money for the jar, she jutted out her jaw in surprise as Cap stepped forward with his shot gun. The crowd jostled him, hooting insults concerning his one blind eye. He didn't reply but calmly handed over his glass of beer and took aim. Cordelia held her breath as he pulled the trigger.

The lantern next to the target shattered. The crowd roared with laughter that he had missed it entirely but then silence fell. The judge stepped forward and pointed to the nail in the middle of the target. The bullet had hit it directly and then ricocheted, destroying the lantern.

Cordelia cradled the jar to her torso and fought back a smile despite herself. The men argued and pushed each other. Quickly the crowd was dispersed and the contest called off by the nervous judge, unwilling to take a fist to the nose. Cap Hatfield grabbed his drink from an older man with a mane of scraggly gray hair and finished the liquor, a scowl wrenching his mouth. He glanced in her direction and again they met eyes.

Swiftly turning her back to him, she strode towards a table with an eager salesman hawking a modern contraption. He eyed the way she was dressed and smiled greedily as he removed his hat. "Good day, Miss. Might I take a moment of your time to tell you about this here modern miracle?"

A body moved beside her and she knew it was him without looking over. She kept her focus on the salesman. "Yes, thank you."

"This here is the Patented Steam Digester, make meals easier than ever-"

"Miss Robertson, can I talk to you a second?" Cap Hatfield interrupted as the man attempted to give a demonstration.

Cordelia kept her voice low. "I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

Cap chuckled. "Don't think this will do you much good, this business is for women who actually do their own cooking."

Turning her heel towards him, she stared up at him expectantly. "What do you want?"

"Miss, if I can draw your attention-" the poor salesman tried again.

"We're talkin' here," Cap snarled at him and the man paled.

Cordelia marched past him, mortified by his conduct. Just as before, he followed her. From what she could see, her father was still waiting to vote so she trotted towards the rutted trail leading around the site. "What do you want?"

"I promise I wouldn't be bothering you but for somethin' important."

"And what is that?"

"It's your father."

Cordelia slowed her pace, ignoring the curious eyes on them as they talked. "My father?"

Cap ran his fingers through his hair, holding his hat. "He's been frequentin' the tavern in town. Seems he's caught up with a dangerous crowd."

"What do you mean?"

"Gamblin' with some nasty characters. Not sure if he owes them money but I pray he don't-"

"Good God," Cordelia breathed, feeling dizzy. She paused by a tree and laid a hand flat over her middle.

Cap halted, passing his hat back and forth between his hands. "I'm sorry for the shock."

Face aflame, she closed her eyes as the image of the dwindling numbers in the log book flashed in her mind. It made sense with all the empty bottles of morphine and her father's late nights coming in scented with whiskey. Cap stepped forward and sought her eyes.

"Cordelia?" he spoke quietly for only the two of them to hear.

She looked up at his unbidden use of her first name. "How do you know for sure?"

His eyes cut away. "I saw him there myself."

"Drinking and gambling alongside him, I suppose?" she scoffed cruelly. "As though father couldn't drag us any lower. I can only imagine that included the company of ruined women as well."

Cap jutted out his jaw, shaking his head as he dropped back a step. "I should have expected as much."

"Expected what?"

"For you to act all high and mighty. Your father is a good man, a little lost but good. Any can tell but you it seems."

Stung, Cordelia tore her eyes from him. "I believe you've said what you wanted."

"Sure did," he growled, slapping his hat back on his head. "And one more thing, when Bad Frank Phillips comes to shoot your pap for owing him money, there will be nobody around these parts to help you because you put yourself so high above them."

"I know what you think of me, Mister Hatfield, you don't need to repeat it-"

He shot his glare to the sky with a harsh laugh. "Do you now, Miss Robertson?"

His gaze slammed into her, dark brows falling hard over his unsettling eyes. Cordelia's feet were rooted as he stepped forward. He grasped her elbow and tugged her close enough for her to smell the gunpowder on his coat. She yielded without protest. Eyes locked on her, he exhaled heavily through his teeth, the sound igniting her nerves down to her fingertips. Her head spun with his closeness.

"Do you really know what I think of you?" he repeated, his gravelly voice dropping to whisper.

She wet her lips, heart thudding painfully against her breastbone. "Mister Hatfield-"

Her sentence was lost to the roars of a tussle back at the election booths. A howl of pain rose up, both of them turning to see one man being tackled by many. Cap released her and moved towards the situation, trying to gauge what was happening.

Cordelia noticed the young man with the gun, her brain numbing as he pulled the trigger. A man fell down dead in the middle of the green, the shooter's face as stunned as she felt. Cap took off running towards the incident while Cordelia tried to process what had just occurred.

"Father," she murmured. "I must find my father."


	13. Death's Door

Her father's mouth drew taut as he studied the bare, bloodied chest of the man. He had been a surgeon in war but surely had not seen such a violent injury since those years. Eyes wide, he motioned for her to approach.

The man's breath was ragged, blood bubbled out the side of his mouth. Cordelia kept her eyes away from the gun shot to his chest but was struck dumb by the wounds on his belly. She had been around her father's work long enough to know how an incision with a surgeon's blade appeared. This was similar but jagged and deep, as though the person who had done it was trying to gut him like a deer.

The stranger's death would be slow and excruciating as his intestines bled out. And he certainly would die, there was no doubt. Cordelia would have known that only by the look on her father's face.

"Daughter," Doctor Robertson spoke calmly. "Go fetch my bag from the wagon."

She rose mechanically and trotted swiftly towards the wagon. Returning, she caught sight of Cap in the crowd, his cold stare hard as crystal. She dropped next to her father. Others were crouched with her father around the man, she could only assume they were family. Between the sudden appearance of the judge and Cap's pained expression, Cordelia guessed the victim was connected to the Hatfields.

Her father pushed her away and she obeyed as the people murmured around them. Another man rushed from the woods, his cheeks red and eyes bleary from liquor.

"We got em'! We got them bastard McCoys!" he shouted and her stomach dropped.

She scanned the crowd for Jim but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Sending up a prayer that he wasn't involved in such a horrific crime, she clasped her trembling hands behind her back. He couldn't have been, his nature was too calm and gentle. He'd never do such a thing, even to a Hatfield.

Cap, her father and few other men lifted the body. Following them, she tried to quell her nerves. The last thing her father needed was a hysterical daughter, even as the horror rose up her throat like bile. They brought the man to a wagon, the empty bed of it swept bare. Impulsively, she unbuttoned her short green coat and balled it up as they lifted him into the back.

"Here!" She raced to the side and held out the coat to the well dressed woman she had seen earlier with her father. "For his head."

The woman nodded mutely, lips pressed together and a glaze of tears in her brown eyes. She turned to catch sight of Cap mounting a horse with a group of other men. A posse. He glanced over at the wagon, rage leaving him white.

"Cordelia," her father moved towards her, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. "Can you follow us in our cart?"

"Yes, father."

"Robert E, go with Miss Robertson," the woman in the wagon called out, surprising Cordelia that she knew of her. "He'll help show you the way."

"Thank you," Cordelia mouthed breathlessly before she and a young boy ran hurried to her father's wagon.

The country roads were bumpy but passable as they traveled further into the hills. Cordelia couldn't see what was happening in the wagon ahead of them and was thankful for it. Especially for the sake of the somber boy next to her. He didn't say much except to direct their path but his little chin trembled and he kept rubbing at his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. Cordelia was too shaken to offer much comfort.

They broke tree cover. A large frontier house with a fine stone chimney came into view, a series of work buildings and a large barn beside it. It was a sizable owning for the area.

"Thank you, Robert E," she managed.

"You're welcome, Miss," he replied dutifully, picking at his nails. "My uncle, is he going to die?"

 _ _Yes.__

But she couldn't tell him that. Lying to the child would be unkind as well. She bit her bottom lip. "The best thing to do right now is pray. It- its the best medicine for times like these."

The wagon with her father stopped directly in front of the house. Robert E jumped down before she had brought the horses to a halt. He raced up to the house as the other folks carried the wounded man as gently as possible. Cordelia tied the reins to a nearby stake and gathered her skirts, cutting across the lawn to the front porch.

Her fathers sleeves were stained red. The man had lost a lot of blood already on the ride over. Surely it wouldn't take much longer. How much pain would the poor soul be forced to endure?

Cordelia followed the crowd into the large front room. Her father glanced over his shoulder at her and motioned to the woman as well. "Mistress Hatfield, I need hot water and as many clean bandages as you can make. My daughter will assist."

So this was the Hatfield estate. And the fashionable woman with the proud countenance and direct glance was Cap's mother. Cordelia solemnly nodded as she removed her hat and rolled up the sleeves of her lace embroidered blouse.

"I'll tend the stove," she volunteered, thankful she knew how to do that much in a kitchen.

"Thank you," Missus Hatfield replied stiffly.

Using the scraps of kindling piled up beside the black iron stove, she stoked the fire. Missus Hatfield brought over a pot and set it on the top. Whispers and shreds of ragged breathing trailed into the hushed kitchen from a room down a hall. The two women hovered over the table where Missus Hatfield had brought out a clean sheet. The fine cotton was expensive, but it was obviously more than worth the sacrifice to these people. Silently, they slashed it into strips.

"We appreciate you and your father." Missus Hatfield broke the quiet, blowing aside loose strands of graying brown hair from her forehead. "Its mighty good of you both to help."

Cordelia wasn't sure how to respond. This was the life of a doctor in the real world, away from the fine homes and rich hypochondriacs of her hometown. Though the brutality was hard to bear, Cordelia felt more fulfilled doing that work than she ever had hosting a dinner party. The realization surprised her.

"I'm sorry," she replied quietly.

"Thank you."

"Who is he?"

Missus Hatfield ripped the end of the sheet as a moan rose from the sick room. "My brother-in-law."

Horse hooves echoed outside. Both women dropped what they were doing and crowded by the window. A trio of bedraggled figures, bound by the wrists, were being driven like cattle by a group both on horse and foot. Judge Hatfield rode with a gun at his side and Cap not far behind. The man leading the group was the dour gentleman her father had been speaking with earlier when she had first seen Missus Hatfield.

"Dear Jesus," the older woman whispered. "They got them."

Cordelia's jaw dropped as she realized what was going on. "Are those-"

"Those are the boys that done this." She wiped her hands on her apron. "Miss Robertson, if you could bring those bandages-"

"Of course." Cordelia cut her off and whipped back to the table.

She didn't want to see anymore. For all she knew, the men would be shot right there in the front yard. No trial or jury. But surely Judge Hatfield wouldn't allow such a breach in justice, no matter how guilty they were. It was barbaric. Jim hadn't been among them, she had seen that much.

Hugging the cloths to her chest, she ventured towards the sick room. The sheets of the rough hewn double bed were steeped in red. Every breath was a labor for him, a liquid wheezing rasp that turned the stomach. A young man sat by the bed, milk blue eyes wide as he gently patted his arm like a child.

"Is that water ready yet?"

Cordelia jumped as her father strode up to her and took the bandages. "Almost."

"Go fetch it for me."

"Father," she whispered and his distracted gaze rested on her. "The other men are back, the judge and... others. They have three of them bound like prisoners-"

His hand shot out and snatched her by the wrist, eyes intent on her face. "Cordelia, don't say anything. Its none of our affair."

"But father-"

"None of our affair," he repeated, his voice so deadly still it even brought the attention of the man child, his mouth drawn in a perplexed circle.

Cordelia nodded and her father released her as another figure strode into the room. It was the man she had seen with Missus Hatfield. From his magnetic presence and intimidating figure, she could only guess he was Hatfield himself, the patriarch of the family. He didn't notice her but paced towards her father, his motions jerky as he took off his coat. Cordelia ducked out of the room, passing Judge Hatfield as she walked back towards the kitchen. He nodded briefly to her, his dark eyes misty.

In the kitchen, Missus Hatfield looked over at her tentatively as she tore into another sheet. Cordelia turned towards the stove, unwilling to tell her the truth of her brother-in-law's condition.

"Water is almost boiling," she stated dryly.

Missus Hatfield handed her the sheet. "You keep on with these. I'll bring it back there."

Cordelia kept herself from thanking her for sparing her another trip to the sick room. Once alone, she heaved a heavy breath and rested her forehead in her palm. Angry voices drew her attention to the window.

The three men were driven into the top floor of a large barn by gun toting Hatfields. Cap emerged speaking with the heavy set man with a long tail of frizzy hair she'd seen him with earlier at the shooting match. After exchanging a quick word, Cap strode over to the house at a steady pace. Cordelia's breath caught in her throat at the sound of his boots on the porch outside. As the door opened, she trained her eyes on her work.

Peering up, she found him studying her, his lips pressed together. "Are those for-"

"For your uncle."

He nodded. "Where is he?"

"In a room in the back."

She sensed he knew better than to ask how the man was doing. Setting his gun by the door and removing his hat, he approached the table and gripped the back of a chair across from her. "Thank you for helping, Miss Robertson."

"Cordelia," she replied, keeping her voice down at the sound of footsteps coming from the hall. His grieved expression smoothed over to quiet surprise.

"You're back," Missus Hatfield stated as she entered the room.

Cap snapped his jaw shut and pulled away from the table. Cordelia kept her eyes on her work as two more men entered the room. She suddenly felt like she was intruding on the most private of days for a family.

"How is-"

"He's not well, Johnse." Mrs. Hatfield's voice broke but she kept her composure.

"Damned McCoy swine-"

"Jim." Another voice boomed. Cordelia glanced over her shoulder as Mister Hatfield entered the room. "Quiet."

Mister Hatfield dragged his fingers over his hair as his wife gently laid a hand on his elbow. His narrow eyed stare landed on Cordelia and his wife noticed.

"This is Doctor Robertson's daughter," she explained.

Cordelia nodded towards him as she tore another bandage.

"Much obliged for your help, Miss Robertson," he rasped.

She happened to catch a pointed look passed from the heavy set man called Jim towards Cap. Cap's mouth morphed into a silent snarl as he looked away.

"So what are we gonna do about the murderin-"

"He ain't dead yet, son," Mister Hatfield snapped to the other young man, a more golden and handsome version of Cap with shoulders like meat hunks. He had to be the other brother, the boy who had impregnated the McCoy girl.

Jim sniffed. "I say we shoot em' now."

Cordelia shivered. Mister Hatfield noticed and frowned. She waited for him to contradict the man and tell him that they were handing the perpetrators to the law, that they would see it out legal.

"I'll tell you when we shoot them," Mister Hatfield snapped.


	14. Justice Be Done

The watchman's whistle keened through the trees. Cap sat up from where he leaned against a hollowed oak, leaves shimmering to the forest floor around him. He gave a shrill whistle in response and stepped onto the forest road. A man on a horse rounded the bend. A few more of his father's men followed with guns at the ready.

Randall McCoy brought his steed to a halt, the animal dancing nervously. Cap cocked back his weapon and gave a challenging look, anger throbbing in his chest at the sight of the man. He was the instigator of the whole tragic affair as far as Cap was concerned. Uncle Ellison might be healthy and laughing right then if it hadn't been for that swine, peering down his nose at him as though he were a bug.

"Well? Speak," Cap commanded, lifting the gun.

McCoy released the reins and lifted his hands. "I come unarmed."

"On what account?"

"I'll only speak with your father. Now are you gonna take me to him or what, Hatfield?"

Cap lowered the muzzle and spit in front of the horse. Without a word, he marched towards the homestead. He didn't want to go back to the house. Cotton's mournful pleas to his daddy and Ellison's groans were too much for him. He wished there was a way to get Cordelia home so she wouldn't have to witness such a thing.

The men on the front porch went silent, Jim Vance fingering the knife at his side as though he wanted to sink the blade in the man's chest. Even Uncle Wall, with all his manners and education, seethed by the door with contempt. Cap fed off their anger, his pulse driving into his brain. Ellison wouldn't be at death's door if not for them, if not for those McCoys.

He entered the kitchen to find his mother boiling more water at the stove. He frowned as she glanced over at him. "Its Randall McCoy, he's here to speak with pappy."

Levicy Hatfield wiped her hands on her apron. "I'll go fetch him. Miss Robertson, if you could mind the stove for me, I'd be much obliged."

"Of course," the doctor's daughter replied.

Cordelia was standing by the window staring towards the barn, rubbing at her throat as he had seen her do when she was worried. Stray curls trembled over the nape of her neck, the sunlight showing veins of dark red in her black hair. Levicy left them alone and Cordelia moved towards the stove. She hadn't looked at him but her hands were unsteady as she stirred the pot.

Cap hadn't known a life without hatred towards the McCoys. He couldn't imagine how foreign it would seem to her. But she had to see that the McCoys were dangerous, Ellison was the proof of it.

Striding across the room to her side, he pressed his fingers to her forearm. "Whatever happens out there, stay inside. Get close to your father."

Her breathing hitched but she didn't pull away. "What is going to happen?"

"I don't know but don't go out on the porch."

His words stirred her hair, her familiar perfume mixing with the heady aroma of the wood fire. Cap fought the impulse to bury his face in her mess of curls and let loose the pins that held them up. He wanted to soak her in like a tonic and forget it all. Desire left him as breathless as a punch to the gut. He reminded himself to inhale and cast the thought from his mind. He paced towards the door as his parents moved into the room.

There was one man in the world who could bring Cap Hatfield to heel and it was his father. Devil Anse Hatfield stuck his hands in his pockets, casually puffing on his pipe as he moved to the door, his wife following behind him, her keen eyes watchful of her fiery husband.

Giving Cordelia one last look, Cap jerked his chin towards the hall leading to the sick room. "Remember, if anything happens."

She didn't reply but knitted her brow as the water started to boil. As Cap turned away, he saw his mother notice their interaction before going onto the porch. She quirked her eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Following his parents out onto the porch, he listened to the tense conversation between the two men with his gun at the ready. McCoy begged for his children to be released to him and sent to the authorities in Kentucky and Hatfield reminded him in graphic detail of what his sons had done to Ellison.

"...if my brother survives, you can have your boys. And we'll let Kentucky law take its course. But if he dies-" Devil Anse jabbed the end of his pipe at his adversary in front of the porch. "If my brother dies, your boys will stay here not before long justice will be done on em'."

Cap's eyes trailed past his father towards the open door. Cordelia's shadowy figure came into view but she didn't leave the house. Her jaw was rigid as she wrapped her arms around her torso, her gaze darting between the two men in horror as the conversation worsened.

Her gaze fell on McCoy for a spell longer before she ducked back into the shadows. Cap looked back and noticed that McCoy had caught sight of her. She had no direct connection to the Hatfield family but McCoy wouldn't care after that day. He'd pile her and her father in with the rest of them.

"Devil Anse Hatfield, may God damn your eternal soul." McCoy cursed as he mounted his steed.

Cap's gun was torn out of his hands by his father as Anse stepped forward. Retreating, Cap clasped his hand on the pistol at his hip. If his father lost control, there would be blood right there on the front steps.

"You feel the need to bring up God one more time, you won't be making the ride home." Hatfield cocked the weapon.

The tense moment broke as McCoy pulled his horse away, Jim Vance following and heckling the man till Uncle Wall snarled at him to quit. Cap spit over the side of the porch and stalked back inside. His father had returned to the room where his dying brother lay. Levicy was brewing some coffee and Cordelia was at the window again looking down on the barn. The glass pane was open, the breeze mixing with the cries of the McCoy boys for their pap as he rode away.

"Miss Robertson." Levicy brought her a cup of coffee.

"Thank you." Cordelia nodded, cradling the tin cup in her petite hands.

Levicy snapped the window shut, muting the desperate hollering of the men. Cordelia turned away, sipping the hot coffee. Cap tore his eyes from Cordelia when his mother shot a glare his way. She would certainly ask about them later.

"Miss Robertson, you have been 'round sick folk most your life," Levicy stated as she handed Cap a cup. "Tell me and don't be afraid of being truthful. How bad is he?"

Cordelia sat down at the table and focused her attention on her hands. "I don't know much-"

"Cordelia, tell us," Cap interrupted, ignoring the surprised snort from his mother that he had used the girl's first name.

She shook her head and gritted her teeth. "It would have been God's mercy if he had died an hour ago."

Cap threw back the coffee and smacked the empty cup down on the table, Cordelia jumping at the sound. "You shouldn't be here, I'm going to bring you back home-"

"I agree," Levicy interjected firmly. "But go get Skunk Head. He'll see her home safe. We need you here right now."

Cap conceded with a nod. It was partially true but his mother also had her own reasons. He would hear of them later. He strode from the house to fetch his best friend from the barn where the prisoners were being kept.

Skunk Head led his horse around as he and Cap walked back to the house. He dragged his fingers through the white streak in his black hair and went to take a swig from the small bottle of moonshine in his pocket. Cap snagged it from his fingers and took a drink himself, stashing the bottle in his pocket.

"You stay sober, get this girl home safe," he directed.

Skunk Head smirked. "You know I can ride just fine whether I'm three sheets-"

"I said sober. I want her home safe," Cap continued, regretting the last part of his statement.

His oldest friend chuckled as he mounted the horse. "Awful particular about this girl, ain't you?"

"Shut up."

Levicy had retrieved Cordelia's coat that she had given as a pillow for Ellison's head in the wagon. It was smeared with blood. Cordelia recoiled at the sight of it.

"Please, Mrs. Hatfield. If you could burn it for me," Cordelia requested, avoiding the sight of it.

She walked across the porch towards where Skunk and his horse were waiting. She didn't look at Cap as she approached them, the other men on the porch milling about behind them.

Grasping her by the waist, he hefted her onto the horse behind Skunk Head. Cap's hand lighted briefly on her knee and she met his eye.

"Be careful," she breathed to him before the horse started away.

Cap watched them until they disappeared over the hill. Thankfully the other men were too preoccupied to have paid much attention to them but his mother had watched the scene with keen eyes.

"You're awfully familiar with the doctor's daughter," she murmured as he retrieved his weapon from the house. "How long you know her?"

He shrugged casually. "Met her a couple times. Why?"

"You _know_ why, son. Just remember, she's a good girl but she's not for you. I can tell."

Cap's mouth drew into a tight line as tucked his gun under his arm. She was no McCoy, this wasn't like what his brother had done. He would be the judge of whether she was right for him or not. "I'll be out at the barn."

"Doin' what?"

He swallowed hard. "Gettin' started on a coffin."


	15. Undue Guilt

The door to her father's study creaked. The doctor was at his desk, his head fallen to the side in a drugged stupor. His bare forearm, bruised and pricked from needles, was laid out on the chair arm. The syringe was on the desk with an empty bottle of morphine next to it.

Cordelia pressed her fingers to his neck to check his pulse. Steady but slow, his skin was cool and eyes rolled back in his head. Twisting her hands in her skirts, she peered out the large bay window behind him. The woods were misty in the gray dawn with the skeletal trees stripped of their leaves. Stashing the syringe in a drawer, she buttoned his sleeve at the wrist and laid a wool blanket over him. She'd tell Hannah to leave the study alone that day, that the doctor was feeling poorly.

Cordelia almost couldn't blame him for this incident. It had been two days since they had returned from the Hatfields. Two days with no news from the outside world. Hannah had not come to work the day before and nor was there any sign of Jim. They both knew why. Ellison Hatfield had died and his kin had taken their revenge.

She couldn't deny what she knew in her heart. Cap Hatfield had been among the vigilante executioners. Blood was on his hands. The same ones that she had allowed to touch her time after time. He haunted her and he wasn't even one that had died.

Cordelia shuddered out of her thoughts as the kitchen door clicked open. Dimming the lantern burning by her father, she gently shut the door to the study. Hannah was clothed in black, her dark eyes like lumps of coal in her pale face. She nodded towards Cordelia and turned her back.

"I'm sorry for not getting word to you yesterday, Miss Robertson," she started stiffly, opening the door to the stove. "About not coming in to work."

"That's quite alright." Cordelia's tone came out too cheerful and she winced.

"Thank you for warmin' up the oven. It's baking day."

"I brewed some coffee as well if you would like some."

"Thank you kindly, but no." She removed her bonnet and gloves, wiry wisps of hair hovering over her face. "We've had a death in the family, three actually."

Cordelia rocked on her heels. "I'm so sorry, Hannah."

"But I'm sure you already knew about all that," Hannah replied, gazing pointedly up at her. "You and your father."

Her mouth dry, Cordelia searched for the words. "There was a wounded man, my father did what his oath as a doctor bound him to do."

Hannah nodded grimly. "But did you say anything to stop it? You aren't bound to an oath that keeps you from performing your Christian duty."

Cordelia hadn't said spoken up in defense of the accused. Her father had forbidden it and she had stayed silent. Even as the McCoy boys yelled for their father from the barn. She had placated her guilt by reminding herself of what they had done to Ellison, recalling the grievous wounds on the man. But she hadn't said anything to stop what she knew was wrong.

"No, I didn't," her voice broke but she kept her composure. "And I'm deeply sorry."

The housekeeper was quiet a moment. Then the hard line of her mouth softened. "But I suppose you couldn't have. I listened for too long to that brother-in-law of mine. Vengeance is mine says the Lord, he quotes. While he plots the next bloody step in this feud. Eye for an eye is more Randall McCoy's scripture of choice if you ask me."

"I wondered if he had seen me there."

Hannah sighed. "He did, child. I don't believe you or your father will be welcome around his family ever again. He claims that one of you could have done something to stop it."

Hannah moved towards the sink and pumped water into a tub. She had left a basket on the table with the eggs and milk for which the Robertsons' paid a portion. Cordelia gently removed the eggs, studying one with a hairline fracture.

"I hate that he feels that way," Cordelia answered quietly.

Hannah came up beside her and took the broken egg from her, cracking it into a bowl to set it aside. "I fear my eldest nephew took the news worst. His pap has forbidden him from working here anymore. Jim will be by today to tell you folks."

Cordelia swallowed hard, recalling how gently he had held her when they had danced. His look of awe when she had said he would make any girl proud to call him husband. Perhaps he mattered more to her than she had realized.

"Miss Robertson?"

Cordelia pressed her hands to her warm cheeks. "Sorry, I'm just tired."

"You should go upstairs and rest. Is the doctor in today?"

"Yes but he's sleeping in his study. He isn't feeling well. This wasn't an easy experience for him." She reached out for an apron hanging by the door. "I'll stay and help, if you don't mind."

Hannah shook her head, her usual warmth returning to her gaze. "Don't mind at all, darlin'."

They worked on the baking all morning, only resting for a brief meal at noon. Cordelia went to check her father afterwards and found him conscious but drowsy. She returned to the kitchen to brew him a pot of tea. Peering out the window into the yard, her heart dropped when she spotted Jim's horse tied up at the barn. Hannah emerged and strode back to the house. Cordelia kept busy as she pushed the door open.

"How is your pap?" she asked in a soggy tone. Her eyes were misty as she brushed her hand over her damp cheeks. Cordelia was too polite to mention it.

"He's awake, I'm just making him some tea."

"Jim said he would make sure all your animals were special cared for today so you won't have much to do until you find a boy to take over."

Lifting the tea tray, Cordelia stiffened. "Is he not coming to the door to say good bye?"

Hannah offered her a weak smile. "Did you want him to?"

She wasn't sure what she wanted. "I understand if he can't-"

"He will, Miss Robertson. Jim would never leave you without a word. I don't think the poor boy could," Hannah cut her off, her tone piteous.

Leaving her father with a full cup of tea, his blank stare starting to recognize the world around him, Cordelia paced towards the front parlor. The hearth was cold, the room as chilled as the winter landscape in her mother's painting. A gentle rap came at the door.

Preparing herself, Cordelia moved slowly towards the foyer. Speaking to Hannah about the deaths of her nephews had been nearly impossible. Standing before their older brother was horrifying. Holding her head high, she opened the door.

"Mister McCoy?"

He turned from where he stood by the porch railing, holding his hat to the side. A black strip of fabric was wrapped around his arm, such a simple thing to portray such interminable loss. Neither could hold the other one's gaze for long.

"Miss Robertson."

"Won't you come in?"

"Thank you kindly, its mighty cold out here."

They walked into the parlor. Immediately he looked towards the hearth. "You'll be needin' a fire."

He knelt next to the fireplace and built up a flame from the stacked kindling he'd gathered there for them. Cordelia swallowed past the tight lump in her throat.

"Mister McCoy, I wanted to tell you how terribly sorry I am about the deaths of your brothers-" she choked out. He rose to his feet but kept his back to her, staring down at the fire. "And how sorry I am for not doing more to stop it. I cannot help but feel partially responsible for what occurred- and- and I just need you know, I would never want any harm to befall your family-"

Her voice dropped off. Tears threatened behind her eyes as though she had a right to them. Her brothers weren't the ones newly buried. She retreated a step towards the window, the gray light washing over her. Jim sniffed.

"I won't be acceptin' that apology," he stated with a power she hadn't heard before in him, "because you have nothing to apologize for. You didn't fire the gun that killed them. They should have been given a fair trial but that weren't something you could do."

She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out loud. He took two swift steps towards her. Laying his hands at her shoulders, he pulled her to his chest. He dug his fingers into the curls at the base of her neck and rested his scruffy chin to her forehead. The sweet scent of fresh hay lingered on his coat.

"I don't hold you responsible. You carry no blame, no matter what my pap says."

His arm around her waist tightened. Drawing his lips down, he kissed the center of her forehead and then one of her eyelids. His heart beat hard against her and his breathing grew ragged as he lifted her chin with one of his knuckles but she pulled away.

"But-" she whispered. "But you will still obey your father."

He closed his mouth with a sigh. "Yes."

"So you must leave and never see us again."

Releasing her, he ran a trembling hand over his chin and marched towards the hearth. "I'll find a way, maybe I can speak to him when he's calmed down."

"And what if he still says no?"

He shrugged towards her, his gaze hungrily taking her in like a last meal. "I can sneak away sometimes."

Cordelia brushed out her mussed blouse. "We both know you are too honorable to go against his wishes."

"But they may not always be his wishes."

Meeting his eyes pointedly, Cordelia gave a sad smile. "He affiliates us with his sons' killers. Whether they were guilty of murder themselves or not, that's a wretched thing to think of a person. He will never forgive us."

Jim dragged his fingers through his hair and let out an aggravated growl. "But this can't be it!"

"Jim, I don't think we could have had much more than this. You know I'm not suited to you. I have no practical skills and I would only embarrass you because of it. Your own father insinuated as much."

"You don't need to tell me what he insinuated, I heard tell of it from him long before this happened," he scoffed, shaking his head. "It's like he wants me to be as unhappy as he is."

Cordelia frowned. "Who says I would have made you happy?"

Jim drew close again, cradling her hands against his chest and cupping her cheek with his other hand. "I'd be more worried whether I would make you happy."

"You say that but how can you be sure..." her voice dropped as he ran his coarse thumb over the supple skin of her bottom lip. "Jim."

"Please, just-" he breathed as he leaned in and grazed his lips over hers.

"Jim," she spoke before he could take her mouth fully. "You know this is impossible."

His arms dropped in defeat, his jaw loosening. "Yes. I do."

"You'll always have my friendship."

"And you can depend on me." His gentle gaze was firm in his resolution. "That I can promise you."

Drawing a deep breath, she held out her hand. "Will you shake my hand, Mister McCoy?"

He did so, holding on to it a moment longer than necessary before donning his hat. Without another word, he saw himself to the door, leaving Cordelia to the dying parlor fire.


	16. Dark Dreams

Silent days passed as a gray season crept over the valley. The sky swirled with clouds that promised snow but none fell. The deadened land remained bare.

Cordelia laid in bed most nights listening to the rickety fingers of the oak tree scratching against the house. The pair of owls in the woods hooted, mixing with dark dreams. She saw Ellison Hatfield's pale countenance materialize, wide black eyes sucking away light and leaving only the rasp of his last breaths. There were the three McCoys boys, clawed fingers prying at splintering barn walls as they fought for freedom.

Jim closed the door behind him and snow filled the parlor till she slowly froze to death.

Cap. His blind eye becoming the winter sun behind mist, the full moon above a dead forest. She felt the heaviness of hands at her waist, breath at her neck, sawdust in the air. His was a haunting figure, a living ghost.

Dawn was both a relief and something to be dreaded. Cordelia was never sure if she would find her father passed out in his office or clear eyed at the kitchen table. It had become a habit of his to come home late. It was so frequent, he stopped giving excuses about patients. They both knew he was lying and Cordelia was too detached to care anymore. Her anger had turned to a silent rage, only just suppressed. Bitterness had become her constant companion.

Though she hadn't remained angry towards them for the deaths of her nephews, Hannah was withdrawn. Sprinklings of flour often dusted her black skirts as she continued to wear mourning clothes. The silence between them was impenetrable and Cordelia wasn't sure if she wanted to break it. Gradually, she stopped going to the kitchen to help with meals and cloistered herself in her room.

She read medical journals from her father's study and made notes from them. She wrote letters to Marshall Rogers that she never mailed, begging him to hurry and find a way to rescue her. Anything to distract herself.

One afternoon, Hannah broke out of her shell and begged Cordelia to accompany her to town for the shopping. "You can bring the doctor his lunch. It'll do you good, child."

Hesitantly, Cordelia conceded. She had been scared to leave the house after everything had happened. It felt as though the world were sitting on a powder keg with both Hatfield and McCoy ready to light it. Of one thing she was certain, she wanted to be nowhere near when it finally happened.

Dressed in her dark purple dress with a gray wool shawl, she clutched the lunch basket as Hannah drove them into town. There were more men than usual with unfamiliar faces sporting scars, gold teeth, and wolfish eyes. She avoided their looks and wished she had stayed at home.

"Lots of folks here today," she murmured to Hannah as they brought the cart to a stop outside the general store.

Hannah sniffed as she tied off the horse. "Don't be fearin' 'em, Miss Cordelia. They ain't here for you or me."

"What are they here for?" Cordelia inquired, dreading the answer.

"Justice." Hannah patted her hand with a quiet smile. "I'll meet you back here after you done delivered the food to your pap."

Cordelia kept close to the buildings with her eyes trained to her boots, ignoring admiring hoots from the rough men invading their town. Hannah's words had sunk in her stomach like stones. She tried not to consider what they meant as she ducked into the post office.

Her father had yet to bring home any letter for her from Marshall Rogers. Though she was beginning to lose hope, she decided to see if he finally had sent news. The post office master took a swig from a bottle he had behind the counter and turned to the boxes behind him.

"Looks like you got somethin' here, Miss Robertson-"

She snatched it greedily from his hand. "Thank you."

Striding out of the office, she tore into the envelope that had been addressed from Springfield. She held her breath and read the single page.

 _Miss Robertson,_

 _Please forgive the tardiness of this letter. I have not given up on my promise to you. The injustice done to you will be avenged and soon I will find a way to get you home. My grandfather's business keeps him busy of late but he has taken my argument for you into consideration. Once you are returned to your rightful place in Springfield society, I will be able to take the next step in furthering our relationship. Do not give up hope yet, Cordelia. I should like to make you a wife if you will have me. It may be some time before that is possible and yet there is still a chance. I will write again soon._

 _Fondly, Marshall_

So he would not marry her to rescue her. He would have to redeem her father's ruined name first. She wondered if that was even worth doing anymore. After their months in the Tug River Valley, there wouldn't be much left of Dr. Robertson to salvage. Cordelia shivered and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her temples throbbing as she forced back tears.

Mind spinning with disappointment, she rubbed at the hollow of her throat as she walked towards her father's office. When she arrived, she found the door fast locked. Guessing that he had gone somewhere on a sick call, she pulled out the spare key that she kept in her purse.

The practice was empty, the desk and bookshelves needing a solid dusting. She entered her father's private office and left the basket on the cluttered desk. The log book with the record of their expenses sat closed on the corner. Her hand hovered over it briefly, but she pulled it away. The thought of what it might read left her cold.

Before she left, she paused by the supply closet. Fingers itching, she entered the narrow, dark room. The dim light from outside illuminated the open apothecary box at the back. She glanced in and saw several empty bottles of morphine. It was something she already knew but a new concern crept into her heart. What would her father do once he was out of morphine and money? Hannah had already hinted that her wages were late for that week. It would only be a matter of time before the whole thing came to the surface.

Cordelia slammed the closet door, breathing hotly through her nose. She had never been more angry. Stalking to her father's office, she spit on his log book like a snake spitting poison. She didn't lock the door to the practice as she left.

A freezing drizzle misted the air, the echo of horses trotted around every corner. She paused in front of the general store and looked down the street towards the saloon. Her shoulders tightened and pulse sped at the sight of her father speaking with a man in a black hat. The man handed her father a wad of bills, the stranger's expression one of cold control. Her father meekly nodded and pocketed the money.

"Your father is good to doctor even the likes of __him__ ," Hannah spoke behind her as she brought their groceries to the wagon.

Cordelia swallowed hard. "Who is he?"

"Bad Frank Phillips. A savage. So says my sister. Hes been hovering around her husband for a time."

She had heard the name before from Cap. He had said this savage would be her father's ultimate undoing. Hannah finished packing the groceries, leaving Cordelia frozen in front of the store. A damp breeze picked up and blew a yellowed sheet of paper to her boots. Cordelia leaned down to pick it up. She unfolded it.

It depicted Cap's face as she had seen her in dreams. __William Hatfield, wanted for unlawful murder of Pharmer McCoy, Tolbert McCoy and Bud McCoy__. These new men in town seeking justice as Hannah had said were bounty hunters. And one of the men they were hunting was him.

Cordelia peered back towards the saloon, stuffing the poster into her pocket alongside Marshall's letter. Her father tipped his hat to Frank Phillips and walked towards her. Phillips noticed her and gave a weak smile, his narrow eyed gaze lascivious as he studied her. He winked and she looked away.

Her father wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, his gaze unsteady and manners jerky. Cordelia lifted her chin and clenched her teeth. He lifted a hand in greeting to his daughter. She ignored him and got into the wagon next to Hannah.

"I didn't know you were coming to town today." He laughed awkwardly as he stopped in front of them.

"I finally got your daughter out of that house," Hannah replied.

"Very good..." Dr. Robertson coughed into his fist. "How are you, daughter?"

She refused to look in his direction. "I'm feeling poorly, Hannah. Let's go home."

Hannah glanced back and forth between them, sensing the tension. "Yes, of course. I'll see you at supper time, doctor."

"I'm afraid I'll be home late again tonight-"

"How surprising," Cordelia snapped bitterly. "Hannah, lets get home before the rain picks up."

Hannah didn't ask about her manner towards her father. Cordelia locked herself in her room, complaining of a headache. She read Marshall's letter over and over until the words blurred into sleep.

She dreamed of the winter landscape in her mother's painting. Fire ate over the horizon, burning through the lonely forest and up the snowy field. When she awoke, it was night. Hannah had left and her father still hadn't arrived home.

Lighting a candle by her bedroom window, she studied the wanted poster of Cap Hatfield. Running her fingers over the sketch of his countenance, she peered out into the night. A human shadow moved in the woods beyond and an owl hooted. Blowing out the candle, she gripped the window sill and watched for movement. The dark woods were still.

Horse hooves sounded down the walk and her pulse picked up. Her father came into view, his eyes heavy lidded. She released her breath and returned to her bed, clutching both the letter and the wanted poster as she fell into a dreamless sleep.


	17. A Death Foretold

Jim savagely kicked the horse in the flank. Cold mud coated him up to his knees but he urged the animal on faster. Sharply turning onto the short drive, he pounded into the clearing towards the Robertson's home. Night was coming on fast with the temperature dropping hard. He hopped off the animal and shook out his stiff fingers. Stomping up the steps of the porch, he banged on the door.

"Miss Robertson! Aunt Hannah!" he hollered.

The scurry of footsteps whispered in the hall and his aunt answered the door. She knit her brows and eyed him with concern. "Jim?"

"I need to see Miss Robertson at once," he huffed, urgency making his skin crawl. He brushed past the housekeeper into the foyer.

"She is in her room-"

"Cordelia!" he yelled up the stairs.

A door opened. Cordelia emerged onto the landing with a book held lightly at her side. She peered down at him and went white. From his wild appearance, she easily guessed something was wrong.

"What happened?" she breathed.

"Its your father."

She dropped the book and lifted her gray skirts as she ran down the stairs. "Where is he?"

Jim struggled to catch his breath. "You need to come with me, there's been an accident."

Hannah rushed towards her with a shawl. Cordelia nodded her thanks, her face impassive and voice calm as flat water. "What kind of accident?"

"He's been shot."

No shock played across her expression. She only blinked, her bloodless lips tightening. "He said this would happen."

Jim didn't have a chance to ask what she meant as she pushed past him towards the front door. He followed, Hannah nervously trotting behind. "Do you need anything from his study, Miss Robertson?"

"No thank you, Hannah. I'll send for you if I do," she replied as Jim came up behind her and lifted her onto the saddle.

Mounting the animal in front of her, she slipped her hands around his waist and he started the horse at a gallop. The ride back to town felt longer than it had to the Robertson's home.

It had been purely by chance that he had seen the event.

Jim had been speaking with a man at the saloon about the acres he was interested in buying come spring. Glancing towards the bar, he was surprised to see Doctor Robertson arguing with a man. He knew him as Bad Frank Phillips. He used to be a Pinkerton man until a run in with a couple of Hatfields with bounties on them left him maimed. He'd been hanging around town ever since like a bad smell.

The conversation between the doctor and Phillips became heated. Phillips pushed the doc and the man held up his hands as he stammered apologies. The bartender moved to stop a fight from breaking out when Phillips shoved the doctor one last time into the drunk behind him. The belligerent whiskey hound took out his pistol and fired in their general direction, hitting the doctor in the lower back.

Jim raced over and knelt next to Doctor Robertson, pressing his fingers into the wound. But the blood was coming too quick. Phillips made a show of limping after the man who had fired the weapon but came back empty handed, complaining about his bad leg. Something about Phillips' casual attitude and the strange disappearance of the man felt off to Jim. A man that drunk shouldn't have been able to get away that fast.

Doctor Robertson had grabbed Jim's hand and glared like a man gone mad. "Cordelia... I need her... I need to tell her something."

Jim's cousin Sam and a few other men picked up Robertson, carrying him down to his office. Someone called out that they would ride to the next town and find another surgeon but Jim knew it was too late to save him. But not too late to fulfill his last wish.

Instinctively, he reached down with his free hand and gripped hers at his waist. In the growing darkness, the lights from the town gleamed into view as they broke free of the tree cover. He spurred the horse as fast as it would go, it's sides slick with sweat.

He stopped in front of the clinic where a crowd had gathered. The skirts of her dress were thick with dirt and horsehair. Her knot of dark hair had fallen to a long braid down her back. The townsfolk hushed and stepped aside as she drove through them to the door.

Jim passed the lawyer Perry Cline. The man smirked under his heavy mustache. He had been talking with Jim's father about the Robertsons and how they were guilty of fraternizing with the Hatfields.

"Reap what you sow," Cline murmured.

Jim shot him a glare and the coward looked away. If Cordelia had heard, she didn't show it. Jim shut the door behind them as they moved towards the surgery in the back of the practice. The man who had ridden for the doctor was waiting outside the door, breathing hard as though he had just arrived.

"I tried-" he choked out as Cordelia floated past him, her steps as airy as a ghost and countenance as pale.

Jim grimaced as he entered the room. The out of town physician peered up at them and shook his head, wiping his forehead. Blood soaked down the operating table and onto the floor in puddles. The bullet must have hit something important. Doctor Robertson's chest wasn't rising and falling anymore, not even slightly.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but he was gone before I got here. It looks like he was shot in the-"

"Femeral artery," Cordelia cut him off tonelessly as she drifted to her father's side. "He bled out fast."

The physician nodded grimly, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder but pulling away when she flinched from him. He clucked his tongue and left the room. Jim took his place by the door, unsure of how to comfort her.

She was impossibly still, her limbs frozen as she stared down at her father's gray face. Reaching out with a steady hand, she tugged his sleeve down over his bruised forearm then neatened his shirt collar. Jim swallowed hard and looked away, fighting back a surge of tears. Frustrated that he was unable to comfort her like he wanted, he stood helpless. She wasn't his to hold even at such a moment.

"Y-you," Jim stuttered, then cleared his throat. "You did good by him, Cordelia. You did good by your father. You can be at peace 'bout that at least."

The lantern by the table flickered over her features. She betrayed nothing. Without a word, she stared over at him. Shadows licked the hollows of her cheeks and eye sockets, her mouth a hard line. She studied him as though he were a stranger.

"Cordelia," he whispered, disturbed by her silence.

Her pupils rolled back into her skull as her knees gave out. She fainted into the puddle of blood on the floor before he could catch her.


	18. Impolite Requests

Cap rode ahead of his big brother and tried to remember the last time he had actually enjoyed Johnse's company. It was probably that last election day before Johnse had met the first McCoy girl. The two of them were selling moonshine, working towards a good business together. Between Cap's skill with numbers and Johnse's charm, they were one of the most popular sellers of white lightening in the county. But that first McCoy, fair haired Roseanna who followed Johnse like a panting dog for a whole year before she got with child, she had ruined it all.

Cap soon separated from his brother's business and returned to his father's logging company. He found better use there between felling trees and keeping his father's books. He was always more his father's son than Johnse. Perhaps that was also a pitfall between them, their pap preferring Cap to his older brother. They all knew that the logging business would go to him if he should want it someday. Johnse couldn't be trusted with it. As he couldn't be trusted to make smart decisions with women.

"So they heard the news already from Uncle Wall?" Johnse called out, spurring his horse on. "I'm guessin' he went chattering away to mama and pappy."

"Yes." Cap spit, refusing to look over at his brother.

Johnse gave a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his chiseled jawline. The boy was too damn handsome for his own good, that's what they had always said about him. Too good looking, too charming and too damn stupid. "Its not what you think- Nancy and me, we just want to be happy-"

"What about the other one?" Cap interrupted, glaring over at Johnse. "The McCoy who had your baby? Ain't she Nancy's cousin?"

"Roseanna don't want nothing to do with me." Johnse stared hard ahead, his mouth turning down.

"So you decided to marry another McCoy instead," Cap snarled, shaking his head. "After everything that's happened. Hell! After what happened to Skunk Head..."

Cap looked away, unwilling to finish the sentence. The death of his best friend at the hands of McCoy bounty hunters was still a fresh wound. And the dishonor they'd done to his body, scalping him so viciously. The rage coursed through his veins till his fingers trembled and he couldn't see straight.

After a moment, Johnse glanced over at him. "I'm awful sorry about Skunk-"

"C'mon." Cap brought his horse to a gallop. "Mama's making supper. We'll be late."

The meal was everything Cap had expected and he relished it. Uncle Wall, Lias, Jim Vance and his parents, they were all judge, jury and executioners to his foolish brother. Especially his mother while she served the table, her tone acidic when speaking about Johnse's new McCoy bride.

Cap had a good idea that their mother had been behind Roseanna's quick disappearance from her son's life. His mother was as ruthless as her husband when it came to her sons and their prospective brides. Cap recalled her comments about Cordelia Robertson and took a swig from the glass of sweet milk by his dinner plate. Levicy had been quick to say Cordelia was well mannered, much more than any McCoy Johnse had fancied. But she was spoiled. She would only be a burden to Cap. Cap replied that Cordelia Robertson would never look twice at him as a potential beau so Levicy had nothing to fear. That had quieted her and the matter wasn't brought up again.

Now that his face was on widely spread wanted posters, he wouldn't stand a chance with the doctor's daughter. He slumped back into his chair, piercing a forkful of ham as he forced her from his mind. It was a hard fought battle.

He broke out of his musings as Johnse let slip an interesting comment.

"Truth be told, need to get away for a bit. Aint' her, Nancy treats me fine. Its just her goldang brother-" Johnse complained.

"Jefferson McCoy?" Cap interjected, peering down the table. "I heard he killed a mailman the other day."

"Got a goldang reward up too."

Relaxing into his chair, he tapping his fingers on his knees. Perhaps it was time for the McCoys to pay up for what they had done to Skunk Head. And there was Johnse, barking away about how Jefferson was living under his roof with a $100 price on his head. Cap glanced over at Jim Vance, the older man shooting him a subtle wink. With Johnse staying at the Hatfield house for a bit, they might be able to make a little money from the reward for him.

"Well, that Jefferson should be held for more than that mailman's death," Uncle Wall broke in, changing the subject as Levicy tried to wheedle the McCoy girl from her son's life. "Been some sad news in town with the new doctor."

The bite of collard greens turned to dust in Cap's mouth. Taking his small flask of moonshine from his pocket, he took a swig and studied it as he listened. He didn't dare look up.

"Robertson? The one who tried to help when Ellison..." his father's voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence about his beloved little brother.

"The very one. A good man. At least he was."

Levicy strode over to the table. "What do you mean was?"

Uncle Wall sighed. "I attended his funeral just this mornin'. I'm surprised y'all hadn't heard. Doctor Robertson was shot and killed the other day. There are many in town that suspect it was Jefferson that done it. Said they say him runnin' from the saloon."

Cap took another drink and glanced up at the room. His mother's eyes were honed on him. Cap looked away, his heart beating so hard the fabric of his shirt trembled.

"The poor man," Levicy offered in the silent room.

"That pretty daughter too," Jim Vance commented, smirking towards Cap. "All alone in that big house."

"Best thing for her, I suppose. She never would have thrived 'round these parts." Levicy concluded with a sniff, strutting over to the stove.

His father nodded solemnly. "Now she can return to her people back east."

"I'm afraid it's not so simple. I don't think there is anyone for her to return home to, shes got no one else." Uncle Wall clucked his tongue. "Was only me and the housekeeper at the funeral."

"Well what is she gonna do?" Lias asked.

Jim Vance coughed into his sleeve to hide a chuckle. "Find some poor fool to marry round these parts, maybe?"

Cap's chair scraped hard across the floor as he leaped to his feet, silencing the room. Levicy's dark brown eyes snapped over to him. She perched a hand on her hip. "Where you goin'?"

"Gotta finish that blockade fence out there," he growled, striding past her.

Sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades and pooled in the hollow of his throat as he sawed a piece of timber. Giving the wood a savage kick, it broke off. He removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, huffing at the ground.

That Robertson girl would be the end of him.

He was already ashamed about riding past her house one evening, slowing down and walking his steed through the woods. The windows of the home had been dark expect for one on the second floor where a shadow hovered by the pane, a single candle illuminating the glass. Just that silhouette had left him dizzy. He had never been so stupid over a woman. In a small way, he supposed he could understand his brother with the McCoy girl. At least the first one.

And now with her father's murder by none other than a McCoy, it was all he could do not to hop on his horse and ride down to her house. Take her away, keep her safe, marry her. He'd do right by her, not like how his brother had treated Roseanna. Find some way to be worthy of her-

"Your big brother and pap are headin' out for some huntin'."

Cap turned towards Jim where he stood on the porch, folding a piece of tobacco under his bottom lip. He dropped the saw and caught his breath. "What say you and me go do a bit of huntin' ourselves, Uncle Jim?"

The old mountain man smiled, his teeth blackened by the chew. "Hopin' you was gonna say that, boy."

* * *

Cordelia hadn't realized how good she had gotten at lying. Hannah, Judge Hatfield and of course Jim McCoy, they had all told her how good she had been to her father. Even the reverend's eulogy had been mostly about her devotion to Doctor Robertson. How blessed he had been to have her through it all. And she'd nodded, thanked them, accepted their condolences. They couldn't see how every word of it was like taking a bullet.

Worse than the guilt was her anger. She seethed on the inside though outside she was cool and composed. She was still fooling them all.

"Miss Cordelia?" Hannah broke through her thoughts as she entered the front parlor.

Cordelia turned from the hearth, her father's armchair creaking. "Yes, Hannah?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Shaking her head, Cordelia rose. She was still in her black dress from the funeral. "I'm certain. Thank you though."

Hannah studied her, her forehead riddled with wrinkles. "I'm worried about you-"

"I will be fine. I think I need to be alone for a little while." She forced a half smile, her temples throbbing.

Giving a slow nod, Hannah tugged her shawl up around her slim shoulders. "Very well. I'll be here first thing in the morning."

Cordelia thanked her again as she saw her to foyer, desperate to be by herself. The metallic snap of the door bolt echoed through the empty house. Collapsing on the bottom step of the stairs, Cordelia untied her boots and peeled off her stockings. She wandered mindlessly back into the parlor and unpinned her curls but her headache didn't subside. Firelight bounced off her mother's painting over the hearth.

She had been thirteen years old when her mother had died. It had been from a fever after giving birth to a stillborn baby. Her father had wept bitterly in his study while Cordelia had sat outside the locked door. She'd only cried at her mother's funeral but not again. Not when her father was such a living wreck. That's how it had been in their home ever since.

Cordelia had to be the strong one. It was she who had suggested he contact their cousin about a job down south. Apologized to patients when he was indisposed. Covered the tracks of his shame. But now that he was gone, she wondered if there was use in being strong any longer.

Tucking her legs up under her skirts, she pressed her face into the musty wing of the chair. When the tears came, she tried to tell herself that they weren't from self pity. Paper crinkled in her pocket. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and pulled out the sheet. It was Cap's wanted poster, his expression cold and detached. She ran her fingers over it. Perhaps he would have understood, seen right through her as he had from the start.

A log collapsed in the hearth. The wind picked up outside and whipped the trees, the oak banging against the side of the house. Then everything quieted. Horse hooves sounded through the night. Cordelia sunk back in her seat and shut her eyes. It didn't matter anymore if it was more men looking for money from her father. Robbers taking advantage of a lone female in a rich house. She was too tired to fight.

The horse neighed. Footsteps paced outside as though someone was debating about knocking at the door. They would start up the steps and then retreat then try again. The floorboards burned cold into her bare feet as she walked into the foyer. She didn't even bother to grab her father's pistol from the chest as she opened the door. Squinting out into the misty night, the shadows hid the rider and horse from her view.

"Well? What do you want?" she asked tonelessly.

The figure snatched the hat from his head as he mounted the steps.

"Miss Robertson." Cap Hatfield halted a few feet from her, his good eye bleary as he took in her. The biting scent of strong moonshine drifted off him. "I come to offer my condolences."

"Drunk."

" "scuse me-"

"You came drunk to offer condolences." Despite herself, she suppressed a soggy smile. "Am I that intimidating that you need to hit the bottle knocking at my door?"

He broke eye contact. "Well yes."

Silence fell between them broken only by the owls calling to each other in the dark. "You've ridden all this way, you might as well come in."

"Thank you, Miss Robertson."

"Cordelia," she replied softly as he moved past her.

He stopped in front of her where she stood with her back to the door. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he studied her damp, reddened cheeks. "Cordelia."

She forced herself breath and stepped towards the parlor. Her raw nerves flared alive with his presence.

"So I suppose you heard."

"My uncle told us."

"You warned me, remember?"

"There was nothing you could've done." His husky voice dropped low. Floorboards creaked under his boots as he came up behind her. "Don't blame yourself."

"I don't. Not for his death. But for how things were left between us. You know." Cordelia heaved a heavy breath as she turned towards him. "You've always known since you first met me. How?"

He licked his bottom lip and glanced over her shoulder. "Sometimes people recognize the same things in other folks. You and me... we've got a lot in common."

She gave a weak grin. "We do?"

"Well, not on the outside, I suppose." His strange eyes pulsed over her, heat thrumming under her skin as though they were his calloused fingertips grazing her. She looked away and he cleared his throat. "I wanted to make sure you were alright out here all by yourself."

"I have a gun."

"Can you shoot it?"

She strode towards the chest where she kept the pistol. "Do you think I'd know how?"

"I guess not," he replied with a soft chuckle.

She handed it over and wrapped her arms around her torso. Inspecting it, he shook his head and a strand of blond hair fell across his forehead. The pistol thudded into the chest as he dropped it back into the drawer. "I don't think you'd be able to even if you wanted. Its rusted hard. Just take this one."

He pulled his own gun from under the fold of his coat and held the handle out to her. He lifted his eyebrows and offered it again when she glanced skeptically up at him.

"I can't take your weapon."

"Why not?"

"You might need it."

"You might too."

She shook her head and dug into her pocket, pulling out the poster and holding it up. "You might need it more."

He grinned, taking it from her. "What are you doin' with this? Planning on turnin' me in to the McCoys?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is you have more use for your gun."

"The only use I'd like this pistol to have right now is to protect you. Since it wouldn't be polite for me to stay here and do just that, you're gonna to have to learn yourself."

Taking her hand, he led her out onto the porch and set his hat on the railing. He ambled back to her, readying the weapon.

"Now what?" she asked as he handed her the gun.

"Pull back the hammer, aim and shoot."

She lifted her arm and tried to focus the end of the muzzle on the hat. Gently, he propped up her elbow.

"Keep your eye on your target," he directed, his chest rising with a breath and pressing into her shoulder.

She fired the gun without noticing where the bullet went and stepped back, holding the gun out to him. "Thank you, but I don't know if I can accept this."

Snorting, he shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Cordelia'."

"Why wouldn't it be polite?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Why wouldn't it polite for you to stay here? Why not?" Her heart pounded in her ears as she blurted the question.

His jaw went slack. "What are you suggesting?"

"Stay here tonight. With me."


	19. Burying Regrets

Wrapped in her father's overcoat and holding his walking stick close to her, Cordelia dozed for a couple of hours in his study. The bay windows glowed gray with dawn, the chill in the large room leaving her numb. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out reality. The miserable ache in her throat made her nauseous.

She shuddered at the abrupt click of the kitchen door opening down the hall. Hannah drifted by the open study door before returning to it. Cordelia blinked across the room at the housekeeper. The older woman sighed, her large brown eyes filling with worry as she strode towards her at the desk.

"Have you been here all night, Miss?"

Cordelia stiffly sat up in the chair, her joints complaining. "I couldn't sleep."

"I knew I shouldn't have left you alone like that."

"I was fine," Cordelia replied with a shrug. "Just going to take some adjustment."

Hannah rounded the corner of the desk and pressed the back of her hand to Cordelia's forehead.

"Well, at least you aren't ill. You scared me at first, you're so wan I thought for sure..." Perching her hands on her hips, she sighed and brought Cordelia to her feet. "Now, lets get you to your room where you can rest."

Cordelia's head spun with exhaustion but she shook her head. "I just need to get dressed and eat something."

"At least you have your appetite," Hannah replied, leaving her at the foot of the stairs. "I'll get the coffee on for you. It's baking day so there should be some biscuits in a little while too."

"Thank you, Hannah."

Cap's wanted poster had been discarded at the bottom of the stairs. Thankfully, it was folded over and Hannah hadn't noticed it. Grabbing it, Cordelia gingerly climbed the stairs to her room. The reflection at her dressing table was unforgiving. The dark smudges under her eyes and her bloodless lips made her look like the living dead. With shaky fingers, she pulled her hair back into a thick braid and splashed cold water on her face.

The wanted poster lay on her neatly made bed. She cringed down at it after she had dressed in another black mourning dress. Snatching it from the duvet, she clawed it to pieces as hot tears forced their way to the surface.

It wasn't his fault and she knew it. But she had been stupid enough to ask him to stay with her and he had been honorable enough to turn her down. So she'd spent the night, battling the loneliness and grief by herself. The request had been impulsive and selfish. He was a salve for her pain but no matter how much he lit her up with his presence, she'd never seriously consider him. She had to remind herself of that fact over and over.

Either she would remain there alone and scratch out a living for herself or Marshall Rogers would follow through with his promises. Her pride wouldn't allow her to consider any other road.

She returned to her father's study, determined to focus on the next step. Pushing aside her grief, she pulled out the log book of her father's finances. His scrawl had been etched out with a weak hand. The numbers blurred in her vision and she viciously rubbed away the tears. Her father had been so hopeless in the end and she hadn't done anything to comfort him in his confusion.

"Here, now this will make you feel a might better." The cup jostled on its saucer as Hannah brought her some coffee. "Those first biscuits should be done in a few minutes."

"Hannah," Cordelia choked out. She took a deep breath to steady her emotions. "I need to talk to you."

Hannah paused by the door. "Yes?"

Cordelia held the log book to her breast as she rounded the desk. "I have some bad news. It seems...well- with my father's finances..."

Hannah's mouth softened in sympathy. "What is it child? You need to let me go?"

Cordelia gave a brusque nod and looked away, her face burning. "I'm terribly sorry but the money isn't there anymore. And we spent most of my mother's inheritance on moving here and buying the house so I cannot continue to keep you with us."

Hannah walked over to her and tipped her trembling chin up, smiling gently at her. "Nothin' to be ashamed of, child. I understand. I thought as much was gonna happen."

"I can pay you your final wages-"

"Please, don't. I insist you keep that for yourself." Hannah took the log book from her and set it on the desk. Holding her hands, she sought Cordelia's eyes. "It's just fine, baby. You're gonna be just fine."

Cordelia broke, the sobs coming full force. Hannah wrapped her arms around her and Cordelia pressed into her shoulder, her dress smelling like fresh bread. Giving into Hannah's demands, the widow led Cordelia up to her bedroom to rest. When Cordelia woke again, it was earlier afternoon. Expecting to find herself alone, she stumbled down into the parlor and was surprised to see Hannah darning clothes by the fire. The older woman shooed her back upstairs.

"I want you in bed. The last thing you need is to be feeling poorly. Just put that goldang pride of yours aside and listen to me, girl," Hannah chided as she chased her back up the stairs.

"But please, don't feel obligated. I can't pay you-" Cordelia tried to argue.

"I don't want your money, child. Now scoot."

Cordelia slept hard again, her dreams dark and quickly forgotten. It was night when she awoke later as Hannah entered her room with a bowl of root broth and biscuits. Though her mind was foggy, she felt physically stronger than earlier.

"Now that you aren't my employer anymore, I ain't listening to you tonight," Hannah bossed her as she set the tray next to the bed. "I'm staying here tonight. I'll leave tomorrow because I need to see to my cows but you're not getting rid of me that easy."

"Hannah, thank you."

"Its the least I can do for how good you and your pap were to me. He was a good man. I'm awful sorry for his loss."

Cordelia set her spoon down. "I wish I could have told him..."

"Told him what, baby?"

She forced a watery smile. "That I was sorry. For being so cold. That I loved..."

Hannah reached out and patted her hand. "He knew it. You can't let those regrets haunt you, let them stay buried with the dead. Else you'll be buried alive right along side your pap."

After changing out of her wrinkled mourning dress, Hannah brushed out Cordelia's tangled curls and tucked her back into bed in her warmest nightgown. Her footsteps and the faint glow of her lamp faded down the hall as Hannah retired to the guest bedroom for the night. Laying in the dark, Cordelia listened to the owls in the oak tree as she tried to wash her father's blood from her mind.

* * *

In the copse of woods nearby, another figure sat with his back pressed to a gnarled maple tree. Adjusting his shotgun against his shoulder and rubbing his hands together to warm them, he peered up at Cordelia's dark window. It was the second night in the row he had kept vigil outside her house. If any men from the saloon came demanding debts be paid by the doctor's daughter, he'd find himself shot clean through before he could speak a word to her. Cap would make sure of that.

He had promised himself he would do right by Cordelia Robertson and the thought of staying under the same roof as her had made his head spin. The tension between them was only growing the more they saw each other. She seemed as much aware of it as him. He couldn't trust himself alone with the girl, not when she was so vulnerable. But he wouldn't abandon her. Not now. Not ever.


	20. Good Intentions

The way Uncle Wall was looking at him made Cap uneasy. Leaning back in his chair at the table, he took out his flask of moonshine and threw back a swig. Glancing back up, the old judge's critical eye shifted away.

His father always said that Cap reminded him of Judge Hatfield when he was younger. They both saw through people, there was no way of lying to either of them. Judge Hatfield had considerably more practice though and something in his smirk made Cap feel as though he knew something the rest of their family didn't.

Cap excused himself, saying that he was going to visit Johnse again at his still. Things had not been well between his older brother and his new McCoy bride. For the past few nights Cap that had been absent, it had made a good story to tell his ever inquisitive mother. She had grumbled that he'd better not be looking to marry one of Nancy's kin himself. Cap told her truthfully that was the farthest thing from his mind.

"So off to see my brother's prodigal son?" Uncle Wall announced his presence as he strode down to the barn where Cap was saddling his horse. "Been doin' that a lot lately. Things going poorly between the newlyweds?"

Cap didn't look at him as he shrugged. "Well, what did you expect?"

Uncle Wall took the animal by the snout and fed it a knob of corn. "I visited Miss Robertson yesterday."

Tightening the straps around the horse's belly, Cap peered blankly over at him in the fading winter light. "Who?"

Uncle Wall snorted. "Don't lie to me, boy. I thought you knew better than that."

"The Yankee doctor's daughter?"

"You know who I mean."

"What about her?"

Uncle Wall patted the horse's neck and moved towards his nephew. "I was offering to help her find a job. I have a few connections with the school house in town, they are lookin' for a new teacher. I suggested that she let me recommend her."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me," Cap grumbled, adjusting his hat and trying to ignore his Uncle's direct gaze as he mounted the horse. "I've got to get on-"

"Cap. I asked if she had a weapon and she showed me her pistol. I recognized it immediately. It's yours."

Cap peered down at his uncle, the older man's dark eyes staring hard but his mouth soft in contemplation. He couldn't lie to him, not about this. "She didn't have one so I gave it to her."

Uncle Wall sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. His breath turned to fog in the chilled early evening air. "I didn't know you two were so... well acquainted."

"Not _that_ _well_ , if you saying what I think you are," Cap retorted quickly, gripping the reins. "I'm not Johnse."

"I know you ain't like Johnse. But I want you to be careful."

"You sound just like ma. You ain't get nothing to worry about with me, I'm fine. I can take care of myself with these bounty hunters and McCoy-"

"I'm not talkin' about you, boy," Uncle Wall interrupted with an edge. "Be careful with Cordelia Robertson, don't bring any more hardships on her head. She's had enough of them, that's certain."

Cap leaned down towards his Uncle and stared hard into his disapproving expression. "I would never do anything to harm her."

Uncle Wall shook his head. "I know, Cap. But there are others who would hurt her because of you. All I'm saying is to keep your distance until this whole thing blows over."

Cap sat up with a dry chuckle and turned the horse towards the yard. "Don't see anything blowing over any time soon. Do you, Uncle Wall?"

He trotted away before the older man could answer.

The road toward the Robertson's home was quiet in the early twilight. A light mist clung to the gravel with the full moon rising above the treeline in the hazy purple sky. When he grew close enough, he dismounted and led the horse further towards the house. The pounding of hooves reverberated in the ground beneath his boots. Cap led his horse into the woods and hid it beneath a thick hedge of brambles.

The rider was coming from the direction of town but heading towards the doctor's house. Cap shouldered his rifle and peered down the road. The stranger came into view and Cap let out a low whistle. He sauntered into the horse's path.

"Jim McCoy. Ain't seen you since that mornin' you had a gun to my brother's head. Where you headin' this time of night?"

The eldest McCoy son brought his horse to heel and tipped his hat back from his eyes. Silently he studied Cap, his thin lips drawing a tight line. "At least I didn't pull the trigger which ain't something you can say after you killed my brothers. You've got gaul showin' yourself when there's price on your head, Hatfield."

"Why don't you take the opportunity then and collect the money from old McCoy yerself?" Cap cocked the gun and lifted an eyebrow. "Unless you got some urgent business somewhere? You headin' any place in particular?"

"That doesn't concern you."

"But it does if you are one of them McCoys lookin' to collect debts from dead Doc Robertson."

A suffocating hush fell over the space between the two men as they glared at each other. The two of them had never been unfriendly as children, even as the tension between their paps had grown. In all honesty, out of the McCoy sons it was Jim that had bothered Cap the least. But on that road in the half light, Cordelia's safety wasn't worth the risk.

Jim McCoy dismounted and strode towards Cap. His sun tanned hand lay on the pistol at his hip as he sized up his rival. "What do you want, Hatfield?"

"I want you to keep on this road and not go down towards the doctor's house. You ain't got no business there-"

"I mean what do you want from Cordelia Robertson? Are you and your family using her for something? Was it you demanding money from her father? I know you like to gamble and drink with the rest of those godless heathens down at the saloon-"

"Before you get any ideas in that pretty little head of yours, let me just say that I didn't have anything to do with the death of Doctor Robertson," Cap responded with a smug grin, his eyes as cold as the moon rising over them. "But from what I hear, it was your people that have his blood on their hands."

Jim shook his head and scoffed. "Lies."

"Just sayin' what word around town has been..."

"What makes you her guard dog?" Jim shot him a glare. "You been sniffin' around her, I've seen it. What makes you think she'd ever consider someone like you, no matter how many nights you sit here squatting in the dark?"

Cap shifted on his feet and glanced away with a grimace. "And you think you're any better? She wouldn't look your way either."

"At least I know it."

"Then why are you going to her house at this time?"

Jim jabbed a finger towards him. "I told you its none of your concern. I don't have to answer to you. But I can tell you this, my intentions towards Miss Robertson are more honorable than those of Johnse towards my sister."

Cap pursed his lips and lowered his gun. "Well then at least we have that much in common."

Again, a heavy silence fell between them. Before another threat could be issued from either side, rough voices rose through the trees. Horses hooves and men shouting. It was coming from the Robertson house. Cap narrowed his eyes above the shadowy trees as a strange orange glow illuminated the sky. Glass shattered and a gun was fired.

"What in the hell-" Jim breathed.

"Shit." Cap snapped, taking off at run for the clearing with Jim close on his heels.


	21. House Afire

Flames danced across the wide porch of the fine home. The lace curtains at the parlor windows shivered as they curled into twists of smoke. Five horses neighed and bucked nervously outside the front door. The men had their backs to Jim and Cap.

Cap Hatfield plowed forward to break cover from the trees but Jim grabbed him by the collar. Cap tried to fight against him but Jim yanked him back. "Hold on, we're out numbered and don't know where she is-"

"Let me go, McCoy!"

"Wait a minute-"

A man emerged from the smoke flooding the front door. He coughed into his sleeve as he stumbled down the steps. Another figure limped up to him, a shot gun lazily perched at his elbow. Even in the shadows, Jim recognized him. Bad Frank Phillips, the savage that the lawyer Perry Cline was trying to convince his father to use to catch Hatfields. One of that guilty party was right there in Jim's grasp. All Jim needed to do was reach around for his pistol and fire a shot right in Cap's head. Phillips knew his father, he wouldn't hurt Jim if he emerged into the yard with a Hatfield body. But Cordelia wasn't anywhere to be seen and nothing else mattered then.

Cap jerked out of his grasp. "She's in there-"

"Shut up, they're talkin'."

The man who had escaped the burning house caught his breath. "She's gone."

Phillips shook his head. "And Bryant? He still in there?"

"Shot dead."

"What you say?"

"I said the girl done shot Bryant dead and got away. She lit the place afire and escaped out a broken window-"

They didn't hear anymore. Both men quietly slipped away into the woods towards their horses. Phillips and his men were too preoccupied with the death of their comrade and the loss of their quarry. However, it would only be a matter of time before they started combing the forest for her. Jim was stunned that she had gotten away but she didn't know the land like they did. They would find her and God forbid what would happen afterwards.

Bringing their horses out onto the main road, they mounted their steeds. Cap motioned towards town.

"You go on and get help, I'll find her-"

Jim shook his head emphatically. "Both of us lookin' will find her faster."

Cap grimaced but didn't argue as he led his horse at a trot. Jim followed, scanning the woods for eerie shadows and listening for heavy breathing. But it was silent as the grave.

"Cordelia," Jim whispered hoarsely, slowing his horse.

Phillips' men were shouting as they tried to decide what to do next. Cap paused and dismounted. He stared hard through the trees. Even though the bastard was half blind, Jim had to admit that he had sight like a hawk. It was downright unholy how well he could see with that one eye.

Cap motioned for him to follow as he gingerly stepped off the road. Jim came up behind him as he knelt to the ground. He lifted something from the tangle of brown weeds in the brush. As he lifted it to the moonlight, Jim saw it was an oval pin. The bone white carving was the profile of a woman, her curls fanning out around her head like ripples in a pond. He recalled Cordelia wearing it the morning after he had first met her.

Cap pocketed the pin and rose to his feet. They both studied the ground, reading the sign that a person had been there. In the distance, Phillips and his men had organized themselves and were hunting towards town.

"Cordelia-"

Cap held up a hand and hushed him. They both listened to the silent winter wood. A faint gasp came from nearby. Cap shot towards a hollow tree with Jim close behind. He tore away the thorn bushes that covered the entrance to it and Jim reached in, thorns snagging at his sleeves. Cordelia grabbed his hand and bit hard. Jim kept from yelling out and dragged her into the light. She kicked and fought, her hair loose and tangled with brambles. Moonlight flooded over them as the clouds broke. Cap pulled her tightly against his chest as she struggled to escape his grip.

"Darlin', darlin', its me..." he comforted her quietly, running his fingers over the knots of bracken on her head. "It's Cap."

Jim cringed as she relaxed into Cap's arms. With careful footsteps, they led her back to the road where she sank to the gravel. Once in the open, they saw she was covered in blood. Jim pushed the hair from her face, her eyes wild on them.

"Jim?" she breathed, her brow furrowing.

"Where are you hurt?"

"It's not mine, the blood isn't mine," she gasped.

Cap lifted one of her arms, her sleeve shredded with a deep gash at her elbow. The thorns had torn her face and hands but there were no other wounds.

"What-what do we do?" Jim stuttered, rising to his feet and running his fingers through his short curls.

Cap glared up at him. "What do you mean? You are taking her home."

"Me? But-"

"But what? Your family is hunting mine down like dogs. Do you think she'll be safer with us?"

Jim heaved a groan and paced a step. "But my pap thinks she just as guilty of killing my brothers. He would never accept her. He'd sooner hand her over to the law for shooting Phillips' man back there."

Cap jumped to his feet and grabbed Jim by jacket. "Then you tell your father no. You stand up for her and quit bein' so cowardly."

"I'm no coward, Hatfield," Jim growled, tearing his hands off of him. "But she can't come with me."

Cap let out a heavy breath through his nose and peered down at Cordelia. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, listening but not hearing what they were saying. Jim moved towards her but Cap roughly shoved him away. Jim lifted a fist to swing at him but the hollers of the men hunting for her drew closer. Cordelia stumbled to her feet, eyes wide in terror. Cap steadied her before picking her up and propping her onto his horse.

"Damn you and your whole family for this, McCoy," he muttered then spit at Jim's feet.

Cordelia blinked down at Jim, her expression stunned as she realized what he had done. He'd abandoned her. She couldn't depend on him as he had promised. Cap mounted the horse behind her and Jim's gaze cut away as the man's arm drew protectively around her. Turning the horse, Cap set the animal at a gallop away from town. Jim moved towards the center of the road and watched them till they disappeared in the dark.

Glancing down at his bloodied hands, he sank to the dirt and perched his elbows on his knees. He didn't even hear Phillips and his men as they approached. Bad Frank rode up next to him, his pistol at the ready in his gloved hand.

"You're that McCoy boy, what the hell are you doing out here?" he stated with a sniff.

Jim shook his head and peered up at him. "Could ask the same of you, Phillips."

Bad Frank shrugged with a half smile. "Just saw the fire and rode by to see if I could help. Seems like that Yankee woman has been burgled but she gone missin'. You wanna help us find her?"

Jim rose wearily to his feet and retrieved his horse. "Only thing I care about finding are my brothers' killers, Mister Phillips. I'd be of no use tonight."


	22. Shock of Vengeance

She had shot the pistol that Cap had given her. That was all she could recall at first.

Cordelia plunged into her raw mind as she tried to organize the sequence of events. The men had come pounding on her door demanding the money owed them. She had promised to retrieve them something of worth and retreated towards her father's study, the pistol hidden in the folds of her dress. One of them had followed her. He'd touched her while she frantically dug in the desk drawers, desperate to find anything to appease them. She told him to stop. The man had said something about her father, insinuating he was the one who had shot the doctor in the saloon. Then she had pulled out the gun.

"Can you tell us what happened, Miss Robertson?" Judge Hatfield asked across from her, his brother Anse studying her while he puffed on a pipe.

She was shivering uncontrollably though she was huddled by the hearth. Levicy Hatfield came alongside her and dropped a quilt over her shoulders. Cordelia nodded mutely as she handed her a warm cup of cider. Anse reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. Moonshine splashed in her tin cup as he poured a shot of it.

"Anderson," Levicy reprimanded him.

Judge Hatfield shook his head. "No, she needs it. It'll calm her nerves."

Cap had his back to her where he stood at the window. His spine was rigid as he stared between the slats in shudders, his shot gun at his side. His mother brought him a cup of cider and he thanked her for it, his hard stare trailing back towards Cordelia. She looked away, the worry in his flinty glare making her more frantic. She took a deep drink of the spiked cider. The liquor burned her throat and she coughed.

"The girl is half dead, Anse. She needs to rest. She needs to be cleaned up," Levicy argued.

"Her memory might not be as fresh come morning. If we are takin' her under our roof, we need to understand the circumstances."

Levicy's expression soured, her eyebrows falling heavy over her eyes. Clearly, she was uncomfortable with the idea. Cordelia couldn't blame her. She was bedraggled and covered in blood, smoke smudges and thorn weals all over her face. She couldn't imagine how terrifying she must have appeared.

She took another drink and peered down into the cup. "Please don't feel obligated. You have enough trouble without me-"

"Just tell us what happened," Judge Hatfield pressed again.

"I killed a man."

The words thudded into the oppressive air of the warm room. None of the other figures moved but their faces rendered no surprise. Her dress was covered in another man's blood, they had expected as much.

She swallowed hard. "They came for money, said that my father owed them. I tried to find some but one of them... he was making things difficult for me."

"Miss Cordelia, I'm sorry to have to ask this but did he..." Judge Hatfield's voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Cap turned from the window but didn't directly look at her. He clenched his jaw, fingers turning white as he gripped the muzzle of his gun. The vein on his forehead throbbed against his skin.

"No but he-" Shame swept over her and she couldn't finish the sentence. "He didn't have the chance."

"Is that why you shot him?"

She snorted. "No. He told me that it was him. He'd shot my father. I didn't think, I just acted. I grabbed the gun from my pocket and shot towards his forehead."

The room spun and she swayed in her seat. Judge Hatfield reached out and steadied her by the shoulder. Her breathing was fast as though she were sprinting. The following events were hazy but she could recall fragments like from a dream. She'd locked the study door. Shattered glass as the lantern broke and the curtains caught fire. The bay window behind her father's desk, she'd broken that with his walking stick. And then she'd run.

"Don't make her talk no more, Anse. She's been through enough. We'll figure this out come mornin'." Levicy stepped forward and drew Cordelia to her feet, her arm tucked firmly around her shoulders.

Cordelia didn't protest as she was led towards the room where Ellison Hatfield had died. A young girl was there setting out a steaming pot of water and a simple cotton nightgown. Her dark purple dress was beyond the mending. Blood had saturated the bodice and skirts when the man had fallen on top of her after he had forced her back onto the desk. Carefully, Levicy helped her unbutton the dress and peel it from her thorn shredded skin. She didn't speak as she washed away the blood or as she untangled the hawthorne brambles caught in her curls.

"This will scar up but you'll heal just fine," Levicy murmured as she studied the cut on her elbow.

Cordelia couldn't remember where it had occurred but guessed it had happened when she'd crawled out the broken window. After treating the wound and getting her into the borrowed nightgown, Levicy led her to the bed. Despite her gentleness, the woman's mouth was tight with worry and she wouldn't meet Cordelia's eyes. Tucking her in a worn quilt up to her chin, she gathered the ruined dress. She reached in the pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"Do you want to keep this, Miss Robertson?" she asked, holding up the letter.

The address was smudged with blood but Cordelia already knew who had sent it. She had received it only hours before Phillips and his men had barged in on her property. It was from Massachusetts, the senator's grandson. A world away from her bed where Ellison Hatfield had bled out. Extending a trembling hand, she silently took the letter.

"Thank you, Missus Hatfield."

"Well. It's the least we could do after all y'all did when Ellison... well, you remember."

Cordelia nodded. Levicy gave her a thin lipped smile and turned down the lantern till the only light was from the small fire in the hearth. Wordlessly, she closed the door behind her. Shutting her eyes, Cordelia tried to gather her fractured thoughts. The envelope crinkled in her hands under the covers as she played with it. Flashes of the night raced back to her and she curled into a ball.

The stranger's face was bearded and his eyes rheumy with liquor, nose bulbous and red. Hot breath on her face as he tried to kiss her. He'd slurred, bragged how he had been the one to kill her father.

The anger had been so visceral, she thought she'd explode from it. It had felt good to pull the trigger, she'd liked it. Justice, vengeance, it fed her rage and she was no longer hungry with it. But then the blood burned against her skin and his body fell heavily over her. And with that, she was a murderer. No better than the dead man on top of her who had shot her father.

She was no better than any of them. Worse than most now with the single shot of a pistol. No matter how justified she'd been, blood was on her hands as much as it was on any of the McCoys or Hatfields.

A crack of an ax sounded outside. Blinking in the dark, she turned towards the window. It was coming from the barn that had once held the doomed sons of Randall McCoy. The floorboards were chilled under her bare feet as she stumbled towards the window. She pulled back the edge of the curtain and peered down the slope towards the building. A single figure was chopping spikes from logs, no doubt to complete the barricade around the Hatfield house to keep bounty hunters at bay. Each swing was more vicious than the last, the man yanking the blade from the wood and grunting violently with each thud. Cordelia's core quaked at the sight.

Cap wouldn't forget what had happened that night. He hadn't spoken while they had rode through the moonlit forest towards his family's home but his grip had been firm, his fingers intertwining with hers. She never would have thought he'd be the one to rescue her from such carnage. Jim had always seemed more reliable yet he'd rejected her there on the road out of fear of his father. And Cap had taken her to his family without question.

She feared the day Cap Hatfield would have the chance to meet Phillips and his McCoy bounty hunters again. She feared his anger because she knew it intimately herself. He'd been right, they were more alike than it appeared.

Her sight began to blur again. Still clutching the envelope, she staggered into the bed and didn't remember falling asleep.


	23. Alone Among Many

Cordelia ran her fingers over the chalk white name on the doctors bag. Clutching it, she swallowed back a knot of tears and forced her eyes up to Judge Hatfield. At the sight of her emotion, the older man kindly glanced away.

"Thank you, judge. I know how difficult it must have been for you to retrieve this," Cordelia choked out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

Judge Hatfield fidgeted with his hat as he nodded. "It was all I could get from your father's practice in town. Someone ransacked it last night and it was one of the few things left."

Pressing her lips together, Cordelia worked up the courage to ask the next question on her mind. "And the house?"

Judge Hatfield coughed into his sleeve as he shot Levicy a look. The middle aged woman sighed, wiping her hands on her apron after setting a fresh loaf of bread on the table. Cordelia nodded and stared hard down at her father's name.

"I'm awful sorry, Miss Cordelia-" the judge began.

"Please, don't fret, I know. Its gone. All of it."

"I'm afraid so."

Her father's books, her grandmother's fine furniture, her mother's paintings; all of it was lost. There was nothing left to her anymore except for her mother's cameo pin, her father's medical bag and a blood stained letter from an old beau. It wasn't much of an inheritance.

The chair scraped the floorboards as Cordelia rose to her feet. "Can I help you with supper, Missus Hatfield?"

She shook her head, cutting her pitying gaze away from her. "All about done. Just sent Cotton to collect the men for supper."

It had only been two days since that horrible night. They had let her sleep most of the following day. Little did they know but she had lain awake for hours, watching the sun trace across the ceiling and fighting the urge to scrub her clean hands raw.

That morning Levicy Hatfield had given her an old calico dress of hers. The style had long gone out of fashion but the cloth was soft and easy to move in. Pinning her curls in a loose knot at her neck, she looked nothing like the former socialite who had arrived in town only a few months earlier.

She hadn't seen Cap all day nor did she look for him. House bound, she had remained by the fire shelling dried beans till her fingers were red. Conversation between her and Cap's mother was stiff as she clung to formality for her sanity's sake. Everyone who came in the house pretended to ignore her but she felt their curiosity as keenly as the early winter chill.

"Okie dokie, Aunt Levicy. I done called everyone in," the simpleton son of Ellison called out as he strode in.

"Thank you, Cotton. If you could set the table."

"I'll help," Cordelia volunteered, setting her father's bag to the side.

Cotton handed her a stack of plates with a faint smile, his distracted eyes darting past her face. "Here you go then."

The two of them quietly arranged the places at the table as the men milled in from outside. Keeping her eyes on her work, she tried not to look at any of them. Though she was far from a McCoy or one of their sympathizers, she distinctly felt like an alien among the Hatfields. Their clan was made of family and life long friends. As an outsider dependent upon their kindness, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

"So this is the little gal who done shot Bryant Smithers?" A voice boomed from the door.

Cordelia's face burned as she peered up from behind the table, her pulse thudding in her ears. It was the older man with the frizzing tail of gray hair and scraggly beard she had often seen with Cap. He smirked as he sized her up with an amused glance.

"Jim Vance," Judge Hatfield warned in his direction.

"Hell, I'm just impressed!" he declared and his tone sounded sincere. "That old coot was a scourge on the land. This lady here did God's work by killing the bast-"

"Jim, shut up," Anse Hatfield stated calmly after receiving a beseeching look from his wife.

Cordelia moved towards Levicy who silently handed her a bowl of corn hash to bring to the crowded table. After setting it down, Anse met Cordelia's eyes pointedly. "Take a seat, Miss Robertson. We have some talkin' to do."

Devil Anse Hatfield was not a man to defy, his commanding voice was enough evidence of that fact. Meekly, she took her place between him and Cotton Top as Judge Hatfield sat down across from her.

"Where's Cap?" Cotton blurted out as he took a bite of cornbread.

Levicy swatted his shoulder as she passed him with a plate of sliced venison. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Said he weren't hungry, he's out mucking the stables," Cap's Uncle Jim explained down the table.

Cordelia bit back a wave of relief. She couldn't imagine what she'd say to him. Seemed he felt the same. Something she could understand especially after all that had happened the previous night.

"Good, we need to get the place ready," Anse announced.

His wife stopped hard in her tracks. "Ready for what, Anderson?"

Judge Hatfield sighed and lifted his eyebrows at Anse. "Seems that McCoy and his lawyer friend have employed Bad Frank Phillips to organize a posse, word of them getting legally deputized is spreading. If that happens, no barricade of spikes or number of guns will save us."

Silence fell heavily over the room. Cordelia saw Bad Frank in her mind's eye standing at her porch, his sly gaze sliding over her while he demanded the money his father owed him. Money she didn't have then and most certainly didn't now.

"We have been building up defenses at the hunting cabin in the hills. Making it livable for the family to hole up in," Anse explained. "We'll leave in a couple days time."

Levicy's expression hardened as the color drained from her face. "You think its come to that, Anderson?"

"I know it has, I'm not about to risk you or the little ones."

Cordelia stirred her spoon in the red beans clumped on her plate. She knew enough of the area to guess what that meant. They would be living entirely off the land, a whole family wanted by the law and hiding out for their lives. But where did that leave her?

"Miss Robertson, you're going to have to help my wife and daughters pack up the house," Anse continued as though he had read her thoughts. "You'll be coming with us. Wall and I have already discussed it."

Cordelia's mouth went slack as her eyes darted back and forth between Levicy and Anse. Cap's mother pulled her shoulders back, her lips pursing. "Does the girl get any say in this?"

"I was under the impression she had nowhere else to go. Do you, Miss Robertson?" Anse questioned.

She let her gaze drop back to her plate. "I have a cousin about twenty miles west, hes a retired doctor but he's much older. Last my father and I heard, he was doing poorly."

"Your father once said he was near dead and that the two of you were bound to be attending the man's funeral sooner than later." Judge Hatfield dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Is there anyone else back in Massachusetts?"

Both of her parents had only long dead siblings and parents. If she had any other distant cousins, she had no idea of their whereabouts. Cordelia shifted in her seat and glanced enviously around the full table of family and friends. She had never known such an environment in her life. Being among them made her feel even more alone.

"There is no one else, I'm afraid," she replied quietly. Cotton Top turned in his seat towards her and patted her shoulder like a child might. The simple gesture nearly brought her to tears. "I've nowhere else to go."

Levicy narrowed her eyes. "What about that housekeeper of yours? Would she take you in?"

"She's McCoy kin, Levicy. Leave it," Anse growled. "So its decided. You have no other option, you'll come with us."

Jim Vance chuckled. "Cap will be pleased."

"Quiet, Jim," Levicy snapped, drawing Cordelia's shocked gaze.

She knew that Levicy hadn't been sure about having her with them but she didn't think the woman disliked her that much. Levicy didn't even know her. A spark of her old self lit in her gut and Cordelia lifted her chin. Eye flickering with pride, she brought her glass to her lips and blinked at the woman. Levicy seemed to sense her ire but was unmoved, shaking her head with a smirk.

"Well girls, we should get started on getting this place ready. Miss Robertson, if you will follow me," Levicy commanded even though Cordelia hadn't finished eating yet. "And someone call in that fool son of mine from the barn. Cap needs to eat with the rest of the family."


	24. Escape into the Hills

"I still think it would be best if we sent the girl back to town."

"Levicy, those men are still huntin' her for money and now for vengeance since she killed that no-good Smithers. What in the hell do you think will happen if we do?"

"I'm not saying makin' it public. Maybe we can find someway to get the preacher to intercede, speak with that housekeeper of hers-"

"I told you what we are going to do-"

"Anse, the girl will be useless to me. She's spoiled and untried in any real work. She'll only be an extra mouth to feed."

"Then teach her. She's not a simpleton. She'll learn. This is going to be her life now, she'll have to eventually."

Levicy sighed heavily. "I don't like the way Cap is setting his sights on her."

"Good God, woman. Will any girl be good enough for your sons? At least she ain't one of those McCoy hussies your eldest has been bringing home. She's coming with us and that's final."

Cap moved away from the front door as his father barged out into the night air. His breath puffed white in the lamp light as he looked at his younger son. Running his hand over his beard, he shook his head.

"You heard all that, I'm guessin'," Anse grouched as he sat down hard on his rocking chair at the edge of the porch.

Cap arched his eyebrows as he retrieved his flask from his pocket. "Not on purpose."

Anse let out a dry chuckle, the rocker creaking as it moved back and forth. "The whole damn state of Kentucky is bent on taking our hides and all your mother can think about is how unfit that girl is for her son."

"Well, she is. Ain't she?" Cap wandered towards one of the wooden beams and leaned against it. "I always knowed she was too good for the likes of me."

"You just keep thinking that way for my sake, son. If anything happened between you and that Robertson girl like did between Johnse and his first McCoy, your mother would save Bad Frank a bullet and murder me herself."

Cap shoved his hands in his pockets. "You know I wouldn't do anything like that."

"Sure do. You're not half as charming as your brother," Anse coughed out a laugh as he retrieved his pipe from his pocket. "And I thank God for that every day. Can't have both of y'all runnin' around like no account horn dogs."

Cap had barely stepped inside the house since the night he had brought Cordelia to his home. Anger pulsed in his brain at the thought of her. He had left her in that house all alone, even after she had begged him to stay. Like Jim McCoy, he had abandoned her in her moment of need. For two supposed besotted suitors, they certainly were a sorry lot.

Cap trotted down the porch steps. It was nearly his turn to take the next watch and relieve Jim Vance. With the threat of the coming posse, every caution was being taken. The next day they would light out for the hills and the danger would be less imminent. At least he had done right by Cordelia in taking her to his home. She'd be safer with them hopefully.

"Don't take what your ma says to heart, Cap. The woman just wants you boys married to girls like her. That way she knows you'll be taken care of. That's the simple truth of it. She may seem complicated but she's not," Anse called out after rising to his feet and striding towards the end of the porch.

Grinning, Cap loaded his gun and peered up at the waning moon. "Cordelia is a lot more like ma than I think either of them realize."

"Both as prideful and stubborn as peacocks." Anse agreed.

"Good night, pap."

As he headed into the forest, he felt grateful for the distance between him and Cordelia. Sleeping under the same roof as her had become slow torture. No wonder his brother had sneaked down to Roseanna McCoy so many times. Despite his guilt and self-loathing over everything that had happened, the heat in his blood for her hadn't abated. He savagely kicked a rotten stump. Following his father's orders to stay away from Cordelia would be more difficult than he had expected.

By noon the next day, they received word that Bad Frank had started to move. Selkirk McCoy, the young man who had spoken against his own family and defected to the Hatfield side, had been arrested. Alive but in prison. Anse drove orders left and right as the wagons were packed and horses readied.

Cordelia emerged from the house dragging a steamer trunk that was much too big for her. Cap dismounted from his steed and walked up to her on the porch. She peered up at him, her gray eyes mute of emotion and expression closed. Glancing away, she took a step back. Cap avoided her face as he leaned over the trunk.

"Let me get that-"

"Thank you," she spoke in a hushed tone, brushing past him down the steps.

As he straightened with the trunk in his arms, he caught Jim Vance's wry grin. Thankfully, his mother hadn't seen their interaction. It would be ridiculous if his parents thought they were going to be able to ignore each other completely at the hunting cabin. Even with the addition recently built onto the roof for Cap and the other single men, it was a fraction of the size of their homestead. And certainly not half as big as the house Cordelia and her father had lived in.

"Gonna be residing in awfully close quarters with that gal," Jim badgered him.

"I know, Jim. You don't need to remind me."

Cap mounted his horse and tried to keep from looking towards the wagon where Cordelia and his younger sisters were going to ride. Once the house was closed up, his father gave the silent sign and they left in a cloud of dust.

The winter sunlight was weak enough in the open but once they were lost in the thick tree cover of the hills, it became an artificial night. His mother and Uncle Wall rode in the lead wagon with Anse riding his horse at their side. Cap's little brother Robert E was handling the wagon that held the girls. As they rode higher into the hills, the boy was finding it more difficult to control the horses and slowed up their travel.

Anse rode around to Cap at the rear and nodded towards the struggling wagon. "Go trade with your brother, you take the wagon and give him the horse."

"Yes sir," Cap muttered, unwilling to look in his mother's direction.

After quickly trading places with his little brother, he settled next to Cordelia. He remembered the first time the two of them had ridden together. She didn't slide over as she had that day. Their knees brushed and her thigh pressed against his. Holding the reins as casually as he could, they remained silent for nearly a half a mile.

"Thank you for the other night. For saving me," she whispered once his little sisters had nodded to sleep in the wagon bed behind them.

"Looked to me like you did a good job savin' yourself. Wasn't me that shot that-" he stopped when he couldn't think of a polite word to call the bastard that had forced himself on her. Breathing hotly out his nose and leaning forward on his knees, he trained his glare on a rocky ledge to the east of them.

Cordelia stiffened. "You were right you know. You've always been right."

"Right about what?"

"That I was no better than the rest of you. Worse now that I've done murder-"

"What happened wasn't murder. You were defending yourself because I wasn't there when I should have been," Cap retorted fiercely, his volume elevating and bringing his father's attention. Anse shot him a glare and Cap bowed his head submissively.

After a quiet moment, Cordelia's hand lifted and came to rest on his wrist. She wrapped her fingers into his and Cap had to remind himself to breathe. There would be no looking at her, otherwise he'd be lost.

"I'm not mad at you. You did the right thing when you turned me down. I shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. It was shameful of me," she whispered between the two of them.

He ran a thumb down the edge of her pointer finger, her skin soft from gentle living. He would hate to see it calloused and cracked as she worked alongside the rest of them. Swallowing dryly, he shook his head.

"Don't be saying that. You've done nothing to be ashamed of. What I said that day about you was wrong, I don't want you tearing yourself down."

In the half light, her eyes flickered into his and he gripped her hand. The need to kiss her was as strong as his brother's moonshine. Thankfully, before he did anything stupid, she looked away. Their hands remained subtly clasped between them for the rest of the ride.

The canyon where the hunting cabin was hidden cut deep into the hills, a small stream edged with frost running through it. The cabin was built into the side of the mountain, one of it's four walls made of that living rock. Cap brought the wagon to a stop as the other wagon and riders pulled on ahead. He ran to the other side and lifted Cordelia off the seat by her waist. He didn't let her go and she stood pressed against him, peering up into his face. His hold on her tightened and he stopped himself from dipping his head towards hers.

"Everything is going to be fine now. You don't need to be scared no more."

She gave a weak smile.

"Cap!" Jim Vance shouted up the hill. "Need yah, boy!"

Startled, he jumped away from her body. Tipping his hat towards her, he stumbled up the hill and tried to calm himself.


	25. River Crossing

Frail morning light shone silvery through the window glass, the edges laced with ice. The two Hatfield girls slept in the bed above her as Cordelia watched the dawn from her trundle bed. She stretched her stiff joints beyond the end of the small cot and felt her spine pop.

The one thing she could say of Levicy Hatfield, however hard she worked Cordelia, the woman was by her side the whole time. Only Levicy was used to such a lifestyle. Cordelia had never scoured floors till her knees throbbed or burned her forearms cooking over an open fire. The blisters on the pads of her hands were tearing and scabbing over. Levicy had surveyed them with a shrug and said they would callous over in time.

Paper crinkled underneath her. Cordelia pulled the worn letter from the folds of the threadbare quilt. Unfolding it, she squinted at the even handed scrawl. She had read it at least twice a day since she had first received the letter only a few hours before her house had burned down.

 _Miss Robertson,_

 _I am happy to write you with good news this time. My grandfather and uncle have both taken your plight into consideration. It seems the judge whose wife died as your father's patient has run into some trouble. Some of his court decisions are being reviewed as rumors of him taking bribes have come to light. As he is running for election against my uncle for my grandfather's seat in the senate, they see this as a chance to bring further shame on the man by restoring your father's position. I will know more by the new year but we may be able to get the two of you home by springtime._

 _You have mentioned how desolate things are for you there and how alone you are. I am honored that you have chosen me to confide in. I hope we will be able to come to a more intimate understanding in our relationship by the summer should everything work out as we hope. I will write again soon, my dear Cordelia._

 _Sincerely, Marshall_

Would he even know her by summer? She peered past the paper at her red and swollen palms. And how would she even begin to explain her father's situation? Or the one she currently found herself in with the Hatfields? She didn't even completely understand it herself.

Her head spun with uncertainly as she sat up in bed and tucked the letter into the pocket of her apron hanging on the wall. She heard a shout outside and knew who it was without peering outside. Cap had remained at a distance from her since their arrival though she felt his eyes on her when no one else was watching.

Around Cap, thoughts of Marshall Rogers withered. She couldn't focus on what she was doing when he was near, her thoughts drifting back to how warm his hand had been holding hers and how close he had held her after helping her from the cart. She hadn't wanted him to walk away.

The door creaked open and Cordelia stuffed the letter under her pillow. Blinking up at Levicy, she swung her aching legs over the side of the bed and gave her a pained smile. Levicy shot her a tight smile and strode towards the girls' bed.

"Up with you two, day's half gone," their mother crowed, grabbing the older one's foot.

Cordelia rose and gathered her dress over her shift. She peered outside as an owl swooped down from a nearby tree and hooted. Levicy marched over to the window and drew an X on the pane with a grimace.

"Makin' me jairy being in these hills in winter," Levicy grumbled.

Cordelia buttoned up the back of her calico. "What's wrong?"

"Owl in day, nearly peekin' in the window. Worst kind of sign, Miss Robertson," Levicy replied. Without prompting, she spun Cordelia around and cinched up the rest of her dress. "And last night, I dreamed of crossing muddy water. Sickness or injury is on it's way."

"Do you really believe all that, Missus Hatfield?"

"Well, Lord knows I'm a God fearin' woman. But these are poisonous times, no harm in making safe the path any way we can. I did tell my dream though before breakfast, good chance of it not comin' true. But we'll see. C'mon now. Chores to do."

By mid morning, Cordelia was cleaning out the wood stove, ashes smearing her apron and forearms. Male voices reverberated at the door and the chilled mountain air escaped into the kitchen as Anse, Uncle Wall and another man in a fine suit entered the room.

Levicy hopped up from the table where she was cleaning a fish that Robert E had brought in from the creek an hour earlier. She shot a look at Cordelia and jerked her chin towards the door. The men were too preoccupied in their conversation to make introductions. Brushing her hands on her apron, Cordelia passed the other woman and met her dark brown eyes as she cleared the table.

"Take the buckets and go milk the cow like I showed you," she hissed under her breath.

Ducking her head, Cordelia passed the men without a word and scurried out into the yard. Her face flamed when she looked down at the state of herself. She had heard her benefactors talking about the man coming to visit, a politician from the governor's office who used to practice in law.

He was the kind of gentleman she and her father would have entertained in Massachusetts. She would have worn one of her fine taffeta gowns, dark blue to bring out the smoke in her eyes, and her black curls would have been tamed into a fashionable high braided crown with one of her mother's silver combs to compliment it.

Now clad in threadbare homespun that was certainly as old as she was and her wild braids frizzing down her back, the thorn weals on her face not fully healed, she looked like something that had been dragged out from a bramble bush. She smirked. That was because she had been that night Jim and Cap find her in the hollow tree. The girl she had been was left behind wandering in that midnight wood.

Swallowing a swell of self pity, she stomped into the makeshift barn and pulled the stool beside the lowing cow. The winter wind sped through the canyon and bit between the shabby boards of the shelter. Shivering, she struggled to gain some sort of rhythm with the udders. When she hit her, she couldn't help an ironic surge of pride. Had it only been a month or so earlier she'd told Jim that she didn't have the aptitude for such practical tasks? Levicy wouldn't praise her but she'd have nothing to complain about here.

"I've come for the milk you got."

The eldest Hatfield girl, Annie, stood behind her. She lifted her chin imperiously, her amber gaze as critical as her mother's. Cordelia smirked and gestured to the bucket.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows.

Annie sniffed. "Ain't much. You been out here all this time?"

Cordelia jutted out her jaw, refusing to let the tot get to her. How old was she anyway? Twelve or thirteen at most? Hardly worth the effort. Tossing a braid over her shoulder, she turned back to the cow. "Stay out here and wait then."

"It's cold."

"That's unfortunate."

The girl went quiet. Her boots whispered on the dried grass and hay scattered underfoot as she left the barn. Cordelia smiled to herself as she continued to fill the bucket. A moment later, she heard footsteps return.

"I'll be done soon, just be patient-"

"You keep on doing it that way, you'll be here all day."

Cordelia jolted to her feet and whipped around to find Cap standing at the cockeyed door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. "You need me to show you?"

"No, thank you," she sighed, wiping her frozen fingers on her apron. "All I need is a little more practice and I'll get the hang of it. That's what your mother said at least."

"Has she been good to you? My mother?"

"She's a hard task master but she won't ask me to do anything that she won't do herself." The cow lowed again and Cordelia rested a steadying hand on her mottled hide, more to comfort herself than the animal. His sudden presence had shocked her and it was nearly impossible to keep eye contact. "Haven't seen you much."

Cap removed the black hat from his golden head and played with it thoughtfully as his sister emerged from the cabin. "Its been busy, trying to get this place in order. Just came back from the homestead, securing the last of our things."

"But isn't that dangerous?" Cordelia asked, unable to keep the worrying edge from her voice.

The corner of his mouth quirked with amusement. "Don't be worrying for me, Miss Cordelia. They ain't got me yet."

Annie smartly came up behind her brother, pressing her lips together. "Ma says just bring in what you have. She needs it to make lunch."

Cap glanced down at his little sister and jerked one of her braids. "Did she tell you to sass Miss Robertson with that tone of yours? Is she your servant to order around, lady of the house? Git yerself back inside and help ma."

Annie stuck her tongue out at her brother, something she should have grown out of years earlier, and flounced back to the house. Cap shook his head and sighed while Cordelia struggled to keep a grin at bay. "I apologize for her."

"Nothing I haven't faced before."

"A rude girl?"

"No, a rude Hatfield. She probably learned it from her brother," Cordelia grunted as she lifted the buckets.

Cap strode forward and took one of them from her, standing over her with an admiring stare. "You see us too well, Yankee."

Quelling the jump of nerves in her stomach, she moved past him towards the door. "Your father is in there with your Uncle Wall and a guest."

"I know."

"I think that's why your mother rushed me out of there."

Silence fell as they walked towards the house. The bare trees shifted overhead and the sun broke free of the clouds, catching the gold in his hair. He spied her watching him and she cut her eyes away.

"Looks like you don't trust me either to tell me any more," she commented lightly, adjusting her hand on the bucket she carried.

Cap came up in front of her and took it from her hand. "Don't be sayin' that, darlin."

His voice was quiet enough to stay between the two of them but Cordelia shrunk back, unsure of what watching eyes would think of them. "I'm sorry."

"It's not that I don't trust you. I just want to protect you as much as I can. Keep you from getting mired any deeper in this than you already are."

"I fear it may be too late for that, Cap." She shrugged. "Look at me. I'm already waist deep and there doesn't look to be any way out for me."

He set down one of the buckets and lifted a hand. Resting his knuckles against the arch of her chin, he brushed his thumb over one of the thorn weals on her cheek. His grave gaze was soft with concern as he studied her. Cordelia felt herself sinking further into her growing infatuation, slipping deeper into the muddy waters of Cap Hatfield's world. Soon enough, anything of her from before would be swept away with the current.

"Do you want out?" His voice was slow and sweet, a honeyed strand of hair falling over the pearl of his blind eye.

She hesitated, breathless from his gentle touch. "I don't know."

His gaze strayed towards the house and he moved away from her. Cordelia glanced over his shoulder to see Levicy disappear from view. A wry smile ghosted over her mouth as she wondered if Levicy Hatfield had drawn an 'X' over her figure in the the glass as she had done to the owl at the window.

"We'd better get back in before I cause you more trouble," she murmured.

Cap heaved a groan and picked up the buckets. "Don't worry, I'll handle my mother."

The men did not turn from their intent conversation as they were entered in the warmth of the kitchen. Parting from Cap, Cordelia looked over at Levicy who was frying the fish for the men's meal.

"Go turn the mattress ticks in your room. The girls are gathering the bed linens for washing," she ordered dryly under her breath.

Without daring a last look towards Cap, she obeyed silently. Her skin still hummed from his touch and she pressed the back of her hand to her cheek as she left the kitchen. The men ended their meeting while she was still beating the straw ticks.

Mid afternoon, Cordelia was bone tired but busy replacing the mattresses in the bedroom. The front door banged open and a hoarse cry filled the small house. Panicked shouts and Levicy's strong instructions came from the kitchen. Cordelia rushed to the door as Robert E was carried in by his father, his shoulder visibly twisted out of joint with a sharp stick impaling it.

"Fell out a tree?" Anse snapped. "What in the sam hill were you doin' up there anyway, boy?"

"Should we call for a doctor?" Annie barked, her face twisting red with restrained tears.

Cordelia knew there would be no calling a doctor. Not with tensions so high in town. Robert E cried out as his mother cut away his shirt and jacket. The wound would be impossible to clean properly while the shoulder was out of it's socket. Cordelia had set bones with her father in his practice. But she didn't dare offering her services until Levicy expressly asked her. Anse glanced towards her, the same thought running through his mind.

Cap ran in breathlessly and approached the table. "Can you set it, Ma?"

Levicy bite her bottom lip. Most wives in the area were all versed in basic medical care. She had certainly cleaned her share of bullet wounds in her day. But if done incorrectly, the boy could end up with a broken arm that might not heal straight. Cap shot a fervent stare in her direction.

"Ma. What about asking..." he didn't finished the sentence but tipped his head in Cordelia's direction.

Robert E wasn't even trying to hold in his tears. A shoulder popped out of joint was horribly painful, Cordelia's stomach lurched at the thought. Running her long fingers over her pale countenance, Levicy lifted her hand towards Cordelia.

Cordelia leaped towards the table and took her place beside the weeping boy. She motioned for Levicy to hold him as she positioned his arm. He cried out and she patted his hand.

"This will hurt but once it's done it'll feel so much better."

"Robert E has always been tough. You'll be just fine, boy," Cap encouraged his youngest brother right behind her.

Giving Levicy a nod, Cordelia carefully but firmly pulled the arm and it popped back into place. Robert E gave a gasp and then an alleviated sigh. His parents nearly collapsed from relief. Levicy kissed his temple and peered up at Cordelia, the hard lines of her face softening with gratitude. She set to work on removing the stick and cleaning the wound.

Cordelia moved towards the stove to stir the pot of beans cooking so they wouldn't congeal in the commotion. She sensed Cap come alongside her as the rest of the room was occupied with Robert E.

Cordelia turned her back to him, his presence burning through her as keenly as the fire from the cast iron stove. Resting his knuckles against the curve of her torso, he leaned towards her ear. "I think you might have just washed yourself right down that current."

Unable to keep herself from the warmth of his being, she stepped back into him. His breath quickened and his hand bloomed open against her back as she pressed her shoulder blades into his chest. Her heart thundered in her chest.

"I think you might be right, Cap Hatfield," she whispered over her shoulder to him.

A dark thought floated through her mind. She might only be grasping at him because he was the most rock solid thing in her life. Her feelings for him might have grown only from desperation. His breath cushioned the back of her neck and she shivered. When a lifeline is thrown to a drowning woman, only a fool would deny it.


	26. Proposal on the Bank

Devil Anse spit between his front teeth and eyed his son from across the half roof of their temporary home. The ruckus of snores from the Hatfield men seeking refuge growled in the extra floor they had built on top of the original structure. Cap leaned against the well built wall and took out his small flask. His father rubbed a worn hand through his beard.

"You feelin' chivalrous or somethin', son?" He sought Cap's evasive gaze in the faint light of the half moon overhead and winter constellations. "Is this why? Because the girl doesn't have anything left?"

"No, sir."

A heavy silence followed interrupted only by Jim Vance letting out a hoot in his sleep. Even in his dreams, Cap's wiry haired uncle thought his proposal to Miss Robertson was laughable. The man couldn't decide what would be funnier, if she turned him down or accepted his suggestion. First, Cap had to get through his parents.

"If she married you, it would be for survival. Not love. You know that, right?"

Cap shrugged. "I don't care."

Anse snorted, taking his pipe from his pocket and filling the bowl with tobacco. "The usual response of the love sick bull calf."

"Still don't care, sir," Cap replied with a smirk.

"I'll never hear the end of it from your mother-"

"What will you never hear the end of?" Levicy's voice echoed from outside the ground floor. She stepped forward and peered up at them, wrapping the loose ends of her shawl around her waist and narrowing her eyes. "You two best come down here and talk if you are going to be discussing me. So I can hear you properly."

Cap swallowed down a quiver of trepidation and sighed, hoisting himself down the side of the building without using the ladder. His father followed soon after, chewing on the end of his pipe. Levicy cocked her head to the side.

"Now what is all this that you have to hide on the roof to talk about it? This conversation not fit for my ears or some such nonsense?"

Cap scratched the back of his neck. A wave of nerves filled him as though he were a little boy caught pinching biscuits from the larder. "No, mama-"

"Don't we have enough going on without our son groanin' over puppy love?" Anse laughed, quickly putting all the focus on his son. Cap winced and avoided Levicy's measured stare.

"The Robertson girl?" She lifted her eyebrows. "Don't you let me catch you anywhere __near__ her bedroom like your brother did with Rose-"

"No. No, ma. It's not like that. Well maybe-" Cap snapped his jaw shut after receiving a warning glance from Anse. He brought his thoughts to heel and focused on sounding nothing like his wayward older brother. "I want to marry her. But if it will cause problems with the family, I won't say another word on the matter. I won't touch her. I won't even look at the girl."

He swallowed hard and prayed that wouldn't be the case. Cordelia's presence was as glaring as the sun when they were in the same room. It took most of his self control not to peek in her direction and self control was something Cap possessed in spades.

"I trust the boy on that account," Anse measured thoughtfully. "But I just don't see how prudent a marriage at this time would be."

"Anderson, hold on. It might be for the best."

Both Hatfield men gaped over at their matriarch in stunned silence. She calmly sat down on the lone rocker by the front step and arranged her mending in her lap. Anse blew out a smoke ring as he studied her warily.

"Excuse me, Levicy Hatfield?"

Levicy didn't look at her husband as she threaded her best needle. "It ain't right to have a single girl of marrying age around all these men. Especially your cow eyed son over there, he's been taking too many liberties lately with her. That's a fire looking to burn down a forest if we ain't careful. Besides, shes no McCoy. She doesn't have any family left at all to object to the union. That is if she accepted you."

Anse shook his head in disbelief. "You mean to say that you approve?"

"The boy's options are slim about now and if he will be true to her, I doubt she'll reject him. She is untried but you were right, Anse. The girl will learn and shes got too much sinful pride to complain."

"Sinful pride? That makes the two of you then, wife."

As she spoke, Cap fought the impulse to pinch his arm and make sure he wasn't dreaming this up. His mother was calmly giving her seal of acceptance while sewing up Robert E's torn shirt. A swell of ecstasy rose up in him and he had to fight to keep a straight face. He wanted to run inside right then and get the girl out of bed, ride them both over to Uncle Wall's in the middle of the night, marry her right there-

"She's a good omen, I suppose. Despite what happened to her. Lord knows we need those now. If not for her, I might have another son with a grievous injury to carry the rest of his life. She's here for a reason." Levicy continued, oblivious to the frenzy of joy glowing in her son.

"Omens. Better not let the reverend hear you go on about that," Anse commented, his tone of voice relaxed now that their potential family drama had been averted.

"I know she'll fit in just fine-" Cap blurted but was stopped as his mother reached out for his hand. She stared up at him, her gaze unsettling as she seemed to peer right through him.

"Your father is right though. If you ask for her and she says yes, love may come someday. Real love, not this buzz of youthful enthusiasm you are both experiencing now. But remember that right now she has no other choice. Don't fault the girl if she finds she can't be true to you. You know too much going in to this to be caught unawares. One morning, you may find yourself alone in a cold bed." Quiet erupted between Cap and his parents as Levicy's words settled on them like snow. There was a prophetic ring to her words that set Cap ill at ease. Anse always did say that his wife saw more in people than a good Christian woman rightly should. Cap wet his lips and Levicy released him, waving him away. "Go on to bed now so your father and I can talk a bit. And make sure its your _own bed,_ y'hear?"

* * *

Water trembled down her bare forearms. Cap watched with rapt attention as Cordelia dunked the linens in the cold mountain stream. She'd taken the washing down a little ways from the Hatfield hideout. Cap had offered to go with her to make sure no trouble came her way. Cordelia had blinked with surprise when his mother had agreed that it was a good idea. She shivered as drops danced from her fingers, snatching rays from the cool December sunlight. She peered across the small brook at him where he sat on the opposite bank, pretending to inspect his shot gun.

Kicking out a long leg at a rotting stump, he sniffed. Such hands as hers needed a ring. He was in no position to buy her gold but maybe silver. Someday. But he had nothing, not even iron. Nothing to give her. What was he even thinking? His stomach lurched as he remembered his mother's words. Cordelia Robertson had nothing left, that's the only reason why she'd say yes to him. However cruel Levicy's words had been, it was the truth.

If Cordelia had still been in that fine house with a servant for the chores and cooking or even worse, a lady of social position in a Yankee brick monstrosity of some northern city, she'd not give him a second look. Much less her hand in marriage. The whole thing would be doomed to failure. Who did he think he was-

"You do an awful lot of thinking for a quiet man, Cap Hatfield," Cordelia murmured, shooting him a gentle grin. Curls floated over her shoulders, sprung from the single plait down her back. Lifting the arch of her chin imperiously, she leveled him with the same intuitive stare that his mother possessed. He glanced away shyly and picked at his nails.

"Just wonderin'," he muttered.

"Wondering about what?"

"If you've ever had a beau before."

She gave a breathy laugh. "Now what sparked your curiosity?"

Cap shrugged. "Just thinkin' you seem like the kind of girl who had a few back up north."

The silence that followed was worse than any reply she could have given. Cap grunted and picked up his gun, running his sleeve over the butt of it till it shined. He didn't dare look up.

"There was one," she admitted as she rose to her feet and wrung out a sheet. Cap couldn't read her tone. When he looked across the tumbling stream, her face was pale and blank, the thorn weals on her cheeks fading to light bruises.

"...what was he like?"

"Nothing like you."

He shifted where he sat against the maple tree. He couldn't tell if she meant that was a bad thing or a good thing. Usually he read her pretty well, like he read all people. But right now, either because of his nerves or the guard she had up, he couldn't make heads or tails of the girl. Fear gathered in his throat and he jumped to his feet. Cap had never been afraid of looking down the barrel of a gun and shooting at a man. Hell, he'd saved his own pap's life. But Cordelia Robertson was a whole other beast. He couldn't do this. Bind her to him when he had nothing to offer.

He hopped over the creek, hooking his gun under his arm. She stumbled back a step to get out of the way and he pulled her upright. She lifted a hand to grasp his elbow, as though she needed to hold onto him to keep him close. Her smokey eyes did that well enough alone.

"Talk to me, Cap. What is this all about? You've been pacing all day, barely speaking to anyone, least of all me. You are too much in the habit of keeping things closed up. Is it your ma? Does she want you to stay away from me and you don't know how to say it-"

"No," he interrupted breathlessly. "It ain't that at all. I just can't- I don't know what you mean... What you could be doing-"

"Slow down. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," he lied and wet his lower lip, peering over her shoulder into the bare woods. "I'm only confounded. You confound me, Cordelia. With your looks and when you touch me like this-"

She pulled her hand away, a light blush erupted on her cheeks. "I won't anymore if that's what you mean."

Cap would have banged his head against the nearest wall had they been inside somewhere. Why was it so damn hard for him to talk to this woman? No wonder he'd always been so ornery towards her when they first met. It was the only way he could think clearly around her. "Never mind. I had no right to ask it of you anyway." He hitched his gun tighter under his arm and walked a few paces off.

Cordelia clasped her damp hands together in front of her apron. "Ask me what?"

He growled and tore his hat from his head, dragging his fingers through his hair. Just have it out and be done with it. Hear her refusal and move on. He whipped around to face her.

"I'm saying that I want to ask for your hand, to be my wife..." his voice faded out as she took a long stride towards him.

Lifting her wet hands around his neck, she pressed her mouth to his and left him stunned. He carelessly dropped his gun and pulled her tight against him, deepening the kiss till he got a gasp of deep seated hunger from her.

Only the echo of his sisters' laughter from around the corner of the rocky ledge tore them apart. She pulled away, wiping her swollen mouth with a shaking hand. She stalked back to the laundry.

"Ma sent us to help!" Annie hollered as the girls came into view.

A clever ploy by Levicy no doubt. She let him have his moment alone with Cordelia but no more of that. She'd not have another grandchild born out of wedlock. Perhaps his mother was wiser in that respect. Just the curve of Cordelia's body as she leaned over to pick up the basket of wet linen was enough to drive him to distraction, his hands aching for the warmth of her body.

"Yes, thank you!" she hollered hoarsely to them as she clutched the basket to her hip. She paused and let her wide eyes skitter towards him, her breathing still heavy. "Yes, Cap. Yes."

She strode away, leaving him slack jawed and watching the weak sunlight dance over her retreating figure.


	27. Omens

If someone had asked Cordelia what her wedding night would have looked like one year earlier, this certainly would have been the farthest thing from her mind. Cold feet were natural, she knew this as fair weather friends from Springfield had told her. But to have them afterwards? When all was said and done? Alone in the rough hewn bed that Cap and his father had fashioned the day before their vows were said, she closed her eyes and tried to explain away her feelings.

Maybe it was the hackeyed way that the whole thing had played out.

The day after she had said yes to him in a blinding moment of impulsive desire, the men set about building a small room onto the ground floor for the newly wed couple. It was an addition onto the girls' room, one had to pass through that smaller bedroom to get to their new one. There wasn't a floor yet but would be before the snow fell, the Hatfield men were good with wood and it could be easily accomplished in a day. No door either, that would come later as well. For now, Levicy had hung a quilt for privacy between the main house and the new room.

Cordelia could hear the girls breathing evenly in sleep only a few feet away. The chill from the dirt floor rose up, saturating the straw tick beneath her. Silently, she waited, grinding her teeth and staring at the splintering ceiling overhead.

Her wedding dress was a gown of Levicy's, one of her finer dresses with a gray jacket that had brought out her eyes. She had worn her ebony hair down in ringlets and the girls had woven pine boughs in a crowning braid around her head, red ribbons tying the ends. Carrying Levicy's small, white bridal Bible that was a family heirloom with a sprig of spruce, the Hatfield women had gushed over her. Even Levicy had tenderly brushed her hair over her shoulder and told her she looked the way a bride should.

She'd felt radiant. Even more so as Anse had led her out into the open yard towards the edge of the half frozen creek right outside. Judge Hatfield had presided over the ceremony with Johnse as best man, his own McCoy bride notably absent.

And then there was her bridegroom. An elated and wildly nervous smile had adorned his usually dour face, his bright hair combed back from his long face, mustache and light beard neatened up, his lanky form standing tall as he squared his shoulders at the sight of her. She was carefully helped over the small creek before coming to stand beside the man she'd soon call husband. She'd beamed up into his gentle smile and forgotten everything else.

But then the dream was over.

Jim Vance chuckled at the proceedings as they ate at a long table outside afterwards. Johnse had brought tankards full of his moonshine and the guests present drank it like water. Cordelia and Cap sat side by side, his hand occasionally coming to rest on her knee under the table though his eyes only sometimes nervously caught hers, her smile coming out forced. He drank. Then Jim Vance sat next to him and they both drank much more. Levicy scowled in their direction as Johnse came to join them, Cordelia left very much by herself, staring at a plate of venison and cornbread, her meager wedding supper.

This was nothing she ever would have imagined for herself. Certainly nothing her parents would have wanted. She felt sick even though she hadn't had a drop of the poisonous liquor her new brother-in-law had brought.

She'd excused herself, complaining of a headache. Cap had brushed the side of her face with his knuckles, asking if she needed anything. Drunk Jim Vance then made a crude joke at her expense and Judge Hatfield had growled at the stupid old man to shut up. She knew then that she hated Uncle Jim Vance, the disgusting pig of a relation to whom her new husband was attached at the hip.

The whole thing was wrong.

If she had married someone else, like Marshall Rogers, things would have been much different. She would have been married in a church in a proper gown. There would have been a fine dinner party then the two of them would have taken a carriage together to their new home, a house all to themselves, before setting out the next morning on a honeymoon. Europe perhaps. She was an only child to a wealthy doctor, she could have had anything she wanted for the event.

Now all she had were pine needles in her hair and cold feet, both literally and figuratively. The wind had picked up outside and she was shivering in their incomplete honeymoon suite. The drunken hoots of the men echoed from the front and she tensed. She had a feeling that Cap was retiring for the night and his men were giving him a send off. Her face burned with horror at the thought of the disgusting jests being thrown in his direction.

All wrong. The situation was all wrong. But Cap Hatfield, was _he_ wrong? She winced. It was too late for that question.

The floorboards in the girls' room squeaked under his heavy steps. She didn't speak as the quilt was swept back. The biting scent of moonshine wafted in the cold air and the bed groaned as he sat at the end to untie his boots. Still lying on her back, Cordelia dared a glance as he undressed. His tall body was lean but hard with tethered muscle from working outside, skin gleaming pale in the moonlight from the single window. At least they had somehow gotten some glass to install in it. He stripped naked and she averted her eyes back to the ceiling, still seething despite her curiosity.

She didn't breathe as he silently got under the quilt next to her, leaving space between their bodies. He laid on his back and a moment passed.

"You smell like Christmas from those pine branches you had in your hair," he murmured softly, keeping his voice low as not to wake his sisters in the other room. "You've always smelled like Christmas. That perfume you used to wear-"

"Florida Water." She cut him off, her whisper icicle sharp. "You smell like a distillery."

Despite the situation, he gave a muffled chuckle. "I'm sorry, darlin', you only get to celebrate your wedding once."

"Of course." She whipped over onto her side away from him. She could sense his confusion and anxiety through the sheets.

"Darlin', I'm awful sorry about tonight with the others out there. I know this probably isn't what you are used to," he spoke, rolling towards her and propping his head up on the heel of his hand. "But you knew who I was when you married me."

Cordelia shivered with cold, unsure of how to answer. He was right, she hadn't been ignorant walking into this thing. But he knew who she was as well, couldn't he have tried to show her a little more respect? His hand came to rest on her hip over the blanket then slipped down to the curve of her waist. The memory of their frenzied first kiss burst in her brain.

He was so close. She was only in her light shift, him in nothing. She forcibly reminded herself of her anger, squelching her arousal with irritation. How dare he think he could just walk in there and take her like some tavern whore?

She pulled away from his touch. "I'm tired."

He gave a sigh of frustration but didn't try again. "Maybe its for the best. I'm feelin' a little under the weather myself."

"Drunk, you mean."

He snorted. "Yes."

He returned to his back, the wind howling outside through the canyon and drowning out the gentle breathing in the next room. The drunken singing outside had ceased. It felt as though everyone in the world were sleeping except them and the winter wind. Cordelia knew there would be no sleeping for her, not with him so close to her. It was taking all her self control to stay mad at him.

"I know I can't give any excuses for tonight, Cordelia, you might think I only asked for your hand out of impulse. Maybe I did and maybe you said yes for the same reason. But I meant what I told you when your father died. I __know__ _you_. We are made of the same stuff. As though we were... made to be together. I know it sounds stupid. I'm no good with words. But I'm still amazed that of all people to walk in front of my wagon and almost kill themselves, it was you."

Cordelia let out a breathy chuckle despite herself and Cap responded the same, relaxing into the tick next to her. She let out a heavy breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm glad you didn't hit me in that wagon too."

"And I'm glad you didn't maim me further after the collision sent me into a building."

Cordelia returned to her back. "Perhaps it was like one of your mother's omens."

"Maybe. Still haven't figured out if it was a good one or a bad one though."

"I guess we'll have to wait and see."

An owl hooted in the trees outside, it's wings whistling through the violent breeze. Cordelia gasped and sat up in bed, staring hard towards the window. Cap rose up and laid a comforting hand on her arm. "What is it?"

"An owl. Your mother said an owl at the window is the worst kind of sign, we need to get out of bed and mark an 'X' on the glass-"

"Whoa now, darlin'," he chuckled softly. "Don't go native on me so fast. That owl is nowhere nearby peeking in at us."

Cordelia almost laughed at her stupidity until she noticed the sleeve of her gown had slipped off her shoulder. He was studying it quietly, his hand resting at the crook of her elbow. He inched his fingers up to the exposed skin and ran the tips of them down the edge of her collar bone, igniting sparks as he went.

"Besides," he whispered huskily, watching his hand, "Its an owl at the window in daylight that's the bad sign."

His rough, long fingers sloped down to where the neck of the shift lay. Following the seam to the loose tie at the valley between her breasts, he paused and played with the knot. He glanced up at her, his gaze as needful as her own.

"I thought you were too tired." He tugged the knot free and the front of her shift fell open.

Cordelia's breath caught in her throat. "Not that tired, I guess. I thought you were too drunk."

" _ _Definitely__ not that drunk," he growled, sliding his hand under the thin fabric and pulling her to him.


	28. Glad Tidings

Jim was losing sight like the Apostle Paul with the fish scales in his eyes. He was letting bitterness and self loathing eat into his soul. And he was doing nothing to stop the rot.

Nothing convinced him more of this than when he raided the church with Bad Frank and his gang of supposed lawmen. They ripped three Hatfield supporters right out of their pews, flailing their weapons among women and children, then locked the men in the sheriff's wagon. He did nothing as Phillips emerged from the sanctuary flexing his hand with blood on his knuckles. Jim peered into the church where the congregation was still singing to see the reverend wiping blood from his mouth.

He decided not to tell his father of the incident. It might distract the man from their goal; unmitigated vengeance for his three younger brothers. However, he wondered if his pap would care that the preacher had his jaw busted by their hired men. After all, the reverend had stood by when those damn Hatfields had shot his brothers in cold blood. The preacher got what he deserved, man of God or not.

They jailed the men and the buffoon named Ransom who was Phillips' second tossed them a couple questions. Jim sat off to the side, seeing the devil in their eyes. The Hatfields were a scourge, a plague of biblical proportions and the land needed to be cleansed of them.

"So when was the last time you saw ol' Devil Anse?" Ransom asked, slicing into an apple with his pocket knife.

The men were silent, staring off into the distance. Jim leaned forward on his knees and chuckled. He glanced up at Ransom with a wry grin. "You won't be getting' nothing out of them. Not unless Devil Anse pulls that string of his to make them dance."

"Don't you sound like a jilted bride at the altar, Jim McCoy."

Jim glared across the room at the son of bitch behind bars. He didn't care to remember the bastard's name but apparently he knew his well enough. "What you say?"

"I said how does it feel to have your girl stolen by one of ours?"

Jim rose to his feet and slowly walked towards the cell. "What girl are you talkin' about?"

"That Yankee girl," the man replied with a slow smile, straightening the lapel on his Sunday coat. "The one we all knew you was cow eyed over. Disappeared without a trace after she shot and killed one of Bad Frank's goons."

Ransom strode over, tapping his blade against the bars. "The bitch that killed Bryant?"

"Don't call her that," Jim hissed under his breath.

The men in the jail cell chuckled. The arrogant one took to his feet and spared a leisurely step towards him. Jim knew he was trying to rile him up. If the men in custody came to any harm, it would be hard to explain to the authorities. They didn't need their official deputy papers taken from them just because Jim lost his temper over a man shaming Cordelia Robertson. Wherever she was at that moment.

"You know shes been with them this whole time? Hiding out?" he continued. "You'll never find them."

"Have you seen her?" Jim pressed.

The man nodded with a barely restrained grin. "A week or so ago. Went up there for a wedding."

Jim's blood went cold. "Who's wedding?"

"Cap Hatfield, Anse's son. He done married your gal. Wedded and bedded-"

Gripping one of the bars, Jim reached in and snatched the man by the collar, ready to strike his filthy mouth. Ransom dragged Jim away and shoved him towards the door. The men in the cell laughed like a herd of demons.

"Best get on out of there till you can control yourself, McCoy. I don't want Phillips on me for you beatin' one of these bastards," Ransom directed.

Jim huffed and pounded the jail door open with his fist, dragging his fingers through his hair. He paced the space outside along the covered walkway, thoughts spinning with the news. He refused to visualize the entire unholy thing, though the image of Cap's arm around Cordelia as they rode away into the night bit through his mind like acid.

She must have been seduced just as his sister had been by Johnse. Perhaps Cap possessed that same fiendish charm and forked tongue that his brother flaunted. However, it nagged at him that Cap had married the girl. He didn't just ruin her, he'd made her a wife. It was a challenge to Jim, it had to be. Now a Hatfield had not only taken his brothers from him but the one woman who had turned his head. Cordelia couldn't have gone of her own free will, it made no sense.

He spit into the road and seriously considered walking down to the saloon to have a drink. He had never entered the place except for a couple times on business. It was a pit of hellfire burning out of control with cards and liquor and loose women. The thought of Cordelia being treated like one of those soiled doves tore through him and he strode off in the direction of the saloon.

No one bothered him as he marched up to the bar, oblivious to the other customers around him. He bought a drink and stared into it as though it would give him answers. He didn't notice the lawyer Perry Cline pull a chair up next to him until the man said something.

"Ransom told me what the men were saying in there about the girl," Cline started in his slippery, refined drawl. He lifted a finger and gave the bartender a smile after he brought him a glass. "Can you control yourself around them?"

"Yes," Jim snapped, the alcohol cooling his blood. The anger was receding but leaving him sick with the unknown. He cursed himself for letting her go that night, for not taking her with him regardless of his father's edict and eloping with her, if only to keep her safe under the McCoy name. He'd not force anything on her, which he could only imagine Cap would have demanded.

"You know, we scare out these sons of bitches and whatever union there is between Miss Robertson and the Hatfield boy could be easily dealt with, that is if he's still alive after we've finished with them. And if you want her back after he's had her." Perry Cline swirled the liquor in his glass, smoothing his mustache.

"An annulment?"

"Simple as the swipe of a pen."

Jim glanced over at the man. Perry Cline didn't do a thing unless it could benefit him in some way. "Why are you talking about this?"

"I have recently received word from some interested parties up north concerning Miss Robertson. There are some very influential men up there searching for her and her father. If I told them that her father was murdered by the men who kidnapped her and that we are now hunting those beasts down, there could be a very good reward. We could split it and you could convince the girl-"

"Convince her of what?"

Perry's mouth smiled but his eyes didn't. "Of the benefit in marrying you. If these men carry news that she has come into an inheritance of some kind, you could be a very rich man."

Jim jutted out his jaw and studied him. "Everything comes down to the dollar for you, doesn't it?"

"A man has to be practical in times like these."

"Alright, I'll talk to her once we get her back."

"And indeed we will, don't you worry," Perry replied, tipping his hat onto his head and leaving Jim alone with his whiskey.

Jim threw back the drink. He'd talk to Cordelia but not to beg for her hand. The only way for her to have a life worth living would be to leave the Tug River Valley. He'd convince her to desert that worthless husband of hers then he'd send her north. Get her as far away from them as possible because Jim was convinced of one other thing; Hatfield or McCoy, both those names would only bring Cordelia Robertson misery.


	29. Whispers of Blood

Levicy's next lesson was taught out of necessity. Anse came down with a hacking case of pleurisy after he and Cap finished the flooring to the annexed room where Cordelia slept with her new husband. This was not his first bout with the condition and Levicy was strung raw by it, her sleep interrupted by his incessant coughing and spitting through the night.

Silently, the two women worked side by side on a poultice and tonic for him. Garlic and a few other medicinal plants were ground with honey. Though Cordelia's knowledge in healing had been nurtured by the professional medical community that hadn't used such methods in years, she took to the skill naturally. It made sense to use some of the plants they employed in their methods to reduce inflammation and soothe chest pain just as easily as the bottled medicinal her father had trusted.

"You've got a good hand at this," Levicy offered, wiping a sheen of sweat from her brow. They had stocked the wood stove to the brim to ward off the winter chill from their patient. "I'm not surprised though."

Cordelia's warm face turned a brighter shade of pink despite her pride. It was the first word of praise she had received from the woman. It pleased her to hear it. "I'm enjoying this, its very interesting."

"I'm glad _one_ of us is enjoying this," Anse wheezed in the other room.

Levicy snorted, her eyes close on Cordelia's work and hands perched on her hips. "I'm just thankful for a daughter-in-law with knowledge in these areas. A doctor's child. With how much trouble this family gets into, you have your work cut out for you."

She just happened to mention trouble as Jim Vance walked into the sweltering kitchen. Cordelia stiffened. His gaze slid apathetically over her as Levicy met him at the door. Ever since the wedding, his manner had been chilly towards her. Cordelia didn't mourn the fact. She hated him now as much as she did that night. She turned back to her work as Jim moved into Anse and Levicy's bedroom.

There were more whispers of Bad Frank and his McCoy cronies antagonizing folk close to the Hatfield family. Now that she was technically a part of the clan, Cordelia found her interest piqued. Her fate was bound to her husband's. For the time being at least.

Cordelia moved subtly to the other side of the table while Levicy was fussing over her youngest daughter's mess of a face after she had milked the cows. Perking her ears in the direction of the bedroom, she caught pieces of the conversation accented occasionally by Anses's coughing. They'd had the gall to raid the church and accost the pastor. Cordelia couldn't imagine Jim McCoy had been a part of such a travesty.

"What do you propose?" Jim Vance asked.

Devil Anse spit between his labored breaths. "Cut off the head of the snake."

Cordelia's hands froze and her eyes trailed over to the bedroom. Jim Vance shot her a withering look of disdain and gently shut the door behind him. Cordelia shivered despite the overwhelming warmth in the room. Such a clandestine conversation between the two men would only mean one thing; more blood. She wished Uncle Wall had been present, his common sense would have been indispensable between those two men. Though in the past few weeks, she had even grown wary of the level headed Judge. He was too bound up in things. They all were.

The door swung open and the wind banged it against the wall. Cordelia gasped as though it was Bad Frank himself barging into their safe haven. Cap smirked and shut it firmly behind him.

"Be more careful with that, we don't need another thing around this place to fix," his mother groused, pushing past him. "Cordelia, finish that up. I'll be picking through the last of that winter patch of onion out there. There has to be something left..." Levicy muttered to herself as she tucked the edges of her shawl around her waist, her forehead creased with worry. Cordelia wondered if her anxiety was because of the lack of onions in the sparse garden or the secret meeting occurring in the bedroom.

Left alone, Cap removed his hat and shot a narrow eyed look towards the stove. "It's hot as blue blazes in here."

"Your father is still poorly. We can't have his fever getting any higher," Cordelia replied succinctly.

He ambled up behind her where she stood at the table. Hands planted firmly on her hips, he pulled her body towards him and leaned towards her ear. The warm room was suddenly stifling. Her hands stilled and her eyes slid shut as he brushed his lips down the side of her throat.

"Your ma comes back in here with you like this..." she forced from her mouth

With a lazy hand, he brushed the stray strands of hair sticking to her neck and continued his trail of kisses down the edge of her jaw. "What can she say? You're my wife."

"It's still unseemly."

"No. Unseemly is how I can't keep my thoughts clear during the day when all I want is you right back in that bed." He settled his arms around her breast. "We keep playing with fire like this and you'll be having my baby by next harvest."

The heat under Cordelia's skin died and her extremities went cold.

For the couple weeks they had been man and wife, she found a comfortable compatibility with him. He understood her moods and judged instinctively how to handle them. She found the same uncanny knowing in her own manner towards him. Despite the rough beginning, there was pleasure in their union. They had made love every night since their wedding, even when one or both were beat tired from the day. They always rallied to the occasion the minute skin touched skin. Her body's hunger for him was insatiable.

But a baby...

It was stupid of her not to consider the consequences of their behavior. Of course, under the cover of matrimony, such an event would be understood and even welcomed by their family. This was nothing like Roseanna and Johnse. Cordelia had been accepted by her husband's parents and she had no kin left to object to him. But she hadn't thought so far in advance to such a cementing event.

Her thoughts trailed back to the blood smudged letter from Marshall Rogers hidden in the pocket of a dress in their room. She hadn't been able to let go of it. The act felt so final, like she was burning the last bridge connecting her to that life.

Despite her contented, albeit passionate, existence with Cap Hatfield, she couldn't quite yet open her arms fully to it. But a baby would change all that. The child would be half wild mountains of the Appalachians and half cobblestones and brick of New England. There would be no hope of escape.

Cap tightened his hold on her and planted another kiss behind her ear, letting his hand wander down the curve of her waist. Her thoughts went fuzzy in his embrace and she wondered if escape was something she still wanted. Perhaps this was her new hope, perhaps her heart was learning to love this man like her own flesh.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and Cap had the sense to release her, a boyish grin barely restrained on his face. He let his eyes trail over her once more as though he were undressing her right there in the kitchen before he turned his attention to his Uncle. Cordelia didn't dare look towards them, certain her expression would give her away.

"Where's your brother?" Jim Vance asked.

Cap shrugged casually, leaning against the end of the table. "You need to talk to us?"

"Me and your pap." Jim nodded as Levicy entered the room. A look passed between the two of them.

Levicy strode over to the table and gave a short nod after surveying Cordelia's work. "I think that's enough of that, I need you to help me take the linen off the line now."

As Cordelia passed close by Cap, he subtly let his fingers trail over her palm. Taking strength from that moment of secret intimacy, Cordelia cut past Jim Vance without acknowledging him and followed Levicy out into the brisk, mountain air. Part of her was glad to be excluded from such talk. Despite her curiosity, her dread over what would come hovered close as a shadow. This was not the kind of world to bring a baby into but it was possibly too late for that regret.


	30. Phantom Moon

_**Author's Note:**_ _So life got in the way of this story but I recently reread what I had and remembered how much I loved writing it and got the itch to finish it up. It might take me a while but I know where it's going and really want to complete it. I'm so sorry it's taken me such a long time, its been a busy year._

* * *

Spiderwebs stretched the length of the window frame. Cordelia peered through the silken netting towards the night sky where a full moon rode high above the snow dusted mountain. The moon winked in and out of the darkness, like an eye. A blind eye. Her husband's face emerged from the stars, transparent as a ghost.

Cordelia reached out towards him but her fingers caught in the webbing. Smoke wafted around her, the heat of a fire building at her back. She opened her mouth to scream and the acrid clouds filled her lungs, searing her throat. Her husband vanished from sight and the moon winked again, the white dripping to red. A blood moon.

"Darlin'...darlin-"

Cordelia jolted up in their bed, the frame complaining loudly. She gasped and grabbed at her neck, the taste of smoke having disappeared upon waking. Cap sat up beside her and rested a hand at the small of her back.

"It was burning and then the blood-"

"You were dreaming. That's all. Just a little dream." His hand drifted over her tangled curls and wrapped around her trembling shoulders. "Now you're shaking like a leaf. Come here."

Pulling her down onto the tick with him, he tugged up the blankets as she rested her head on his chest, cradled inside his arm. Smoothing a hand over her cheek, he perched his chin on the top of her head. Cordelia took a deep breath of the cold air seeping into their bedroom and relaxed against the lean lines of his body.

"There now," Cap crooned in the quiet. "What was this all about?"

Cordelia shuddered as visions of her nightmare played before her waking eyes. She glanced towards the window to find a frostbitten glass pane glowing in the light of a half moon. An owl hooted outside but did not draw close. However, she didn't need an omen to ignite the fear kindling in her chest.

She pressed her face into him till she could feel his heartbeat reverberate through her skull. "We're cursed, aren't we?"

Cap scoffed. "What are you saying?"

"Cursed. We have blood on our hands, the both of us."

"You're been talking too much with my mother."

"Look at what happened to my father. He killed that woman back in Massachusetts and his sins followed him all the way here."

Cap's hold on her tightened. "Your pap was murdered."

"But blood calls for blood. That's what you and your kin have been fighting the McCoys over for years. Even says so in the Bible, you reap what you sow. We have both sowed in blood-"

"But blood that was justly taken. The McCoy boys, they killed my uncle so I did what was right even in the eyes of the law. The night your house burned...that man..." Cordelia sensed him tense at the thought of her attack. It seemed what had happened then only added to his rage towards the McCoys and their bounty hunters. "He killed your father. Those deaths balanced the scales."

Cordelia gripped his night shirt. "But that's the funny thing about blood. Where does it end? Where does the dying stop? If not with us, will it come back to curse our children?"

"That's enough of this talk," Cap replied swiftly, brushing away the notion before it could anchor itself in his thoughts. "Besides we don't have any children for this curse to lay itself on."

Cordelia released his shirt. "No, we don't."

The next morning dawned chilly but clear. However, the blue sky did little to erase the fear that lay like a stone in Cordelia's stomach. Their supplies were getting lower by the day. Though the men were able to fill their tables with meat they hunted, the corn meal store was sorely depleted. Cordelia was careful not to waste any as she prepared biscuits with Annie, Anse's racking cough echoing from the bedroom.

Cap had been strangely quiet when they had risen that morning, giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead before leaving for his turn at the watch. Cordelia wondered if their late night conversation had anything to do with his detached mood but didn't want to consider it. Her sideways thoughts from the night before spread like an ink stain on her mind. They were doomed as though they'd been born with the mark of Cain on their heads.

"Annie, go milk the cows," Levicy commanded as she strode into the kitchen. She shut the door to her bedroom, muting Anse's hacking.

Cordelia could tell by her strident tone that the woman had something on her mind that she wanted only her daughter-in-law to hear. Her tensed as she awaited what could only be bad news. Levicy picked up where Annie had left off, rolling the dough into golden mounds.

"I was collecting clothes for the wash this afternoon. I gathered yours and Cap's things," Levicy began, her voice dropping low so it could only be heard between them even though they were alone in the kitchen.

"Thank you."

"The cloths from your monthly bleeding, they weren't anywhere. Did you clean them already?"

Cordelia froze with her hands wrist deep in the cornmeal batter. She had completely forgotten in the midst of all the chaos of her new life. She had missed her monthly bleeding and hadn't even noticed. She drew a strangled breath and blinked over at Levicy. Her mother-in-law continued her work calmly, a sly smirk tugging at her mouth.

"Seems like this is news to you too," Levicy commented casually. "So. When are you going to tell him?"

Cordelia's mind reeled. She almost laughed at herself. Shock wasn't anything she should be feeling, everything they had been doing was going to lead to this eventually. But a baby...

"Cordelia?"

She sat down hard in the chair by the table and laid her head in her hands. Levicy didn't say anything but calmly retrieved her a cup of water. She sighed and rested her hands on her hips.

"I reacted just the same when I found out I was expecting Johnse. All I could think was that it had to come out of me somehow now. There was no going back," she laughed softly. "Don't worry, all first time mothers have this moment."

Cordelia sipped her water and gingerly laid a hand over her middle. "What do you think he'll say? This is hardly the place and time for a baby."

"There is no truly good time for a baby. They generally disrupt everything but we carry on. Don't fret about it now. You've got a few months and a lot of things can happen between now and then." Levicy gave her shoulder a brief squeeze.

Cordelia shut her eyes tightly and could almost hear the final ties with her past life snap. This new binding was one that would not break. She was now tied irrevocably to Cap Hatfield. A thought flickered in the corner of her mind that perhaps she had always been from the moment they had met. She brushed it away and continued preparing the biscuits, her heart racing.

That evening was the first since their wedding that Cap did not make love to her. Cordelia had gone to bed first, Cap having gone to speak with Johnse at his still. It was well into the night when he stumbled into their bedroom. She smelled the moonshine on him before he got into the bed. Curled on her side, she laid still with her eyes shut, praying he wouldn't speak. Within minutes, he was out cold in a drunk sleep. As she drifted off herself, she wondered what could have happened with Johnse to make Cap drink so heavily that night.

Her first thought the next morning was the realization that it was New Year's Eve. She recalled the delusional hope from the summer that she would be back north by Christmas. Levicy was right, a lot could happen in the span of a few months.

She turned over on her side to face the room, expecting to find it empty as Cap's warmth had left the bed. Cap sat fully clothed at the end of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and head hanging. Something was in his hands.

Cordelia shifted, squinting in the cold sunlight and sitting up on her elbows. "What are you-"

He lifted his head, his eyes dead as he gazed over at her. His hands lifted slightly, a dog eared and blood stained paper wafting between them. It was her last letter from Marshall, her last tie now cut with the new life curled in her womb.

"Marshall?"

"He's the old beau," she breathed. "The one you asked me about before you asked for my hand."

"The one I'm nothing like?"

"Yes. Where did you get that?"

He gave a pained grin and folded it. "I've had it since yesterday morning. It had fallen out of your pocket. I'm sorry for reading it. Sorrier than I can say."

"Why didn't you say anything till now?"

Cap placed it on the quilt next to him and threaded his fingers together, leaning forward on his thighs. "With so much going on, it seemed stupid to be worrying over it. I mean... is there anything for me to worry about, Cordelia?"

Cordelia's mouth went dry. Not anymore, but she couldn't tell him that or the reason why. Not now. He read her silence differently and rose to his feet, propping his hat on his head.

"Pap and the boys, we've been planning something. Something big. I'll be helping prepared for it most of the day and we'll be leaving late tonight."

"Cap-"

"Maybe it's good timing, give us some distance." He nodded curtly towards her without meeting her eyes, his shoulders tense. "I'll see you most like tomorrow."

He closed the door gently behind him as not to wake his sisters in the next room. Cordelia stared blankly at the letter laying innocently by her foot. Why had she kept the damned thing? With a grunt, she snagged it and tore it viciously to pieces. Her sudden movement brought a wave of nausea, the first announcement her body was making room for something new. She made it to the clean chamber pot in time to empty her stomach, her eyes filling with tears and mind drowning in dread.


	31. New Year's Day

"You sense it too, don't you?"

Levicy didn't turn from the window, the thin light from the wood stove highlighting her statuesque figure through her nightgown. Even after bearing so many children, Levicy Hatfield was still a striking woman in both body and face. Cordelia paused on the threshold, the floor chilled under her bare feet. She had wrapped a sparse, linen shawl around her shoulders. She felt hollow and wiry, nothing like the vibrancy she had assumed would accompany pregnancy.

"Somethin' is brewing." Levicy continued, her brown eyes fixed on the dark shapes of the trees beyond. "Bet you, Sally McCoy felt it long before this night. She's got the gift, that one, for all her husband's preaching. The sight as some call it."

Cordelia approached gingerly, casting a wary glance towards her in-laws' bedroom. The door was closed and no sound came from it. For once, Anse wasn't coughing himself bloody. She wondered why Levicy wasn't taking the chance to sleep peacefully.

"I was able to sleep a little but..." Cordelia paused, unsure of how to explain herself.

Levicy gave half a grin over her shoulder. "I believe I was wrong about you. There are some things only women born in these hills will feel in their bones. You come by it natural. You sure your people are all Yankees?"

Cordelia returned her grin weakly with a shrug. "As much to my knowledge."

"Come and sit. There is a little coffee left over."

Earlier, close to midnight, they had brewed hot coffee and made quick meals of venison and biscuits for the men. There was a large party of them, even Johnse joined late. After days of secrecy, Cordelia had finally learned their plans. They were going to raid the McCoy property itself and bring back the patriarch unharmed to face justice. No one else was to be taken or injured. As Anse had said, cut off the head of the snake.

"I am thankful that Anse remained here. Out on a night like this, it surely would have killed him." Levicy wrapped her worn fingers around her cup. "But I don't believe it was wise to let Jim Vance lead."

Cordelia swallowed a bitter mouthful of stale coffee, grounds catching in her throat. "I was worried too when I heard it."

"I wish they had put Johnse and Cap in charge. Or perhaps just Cap as Johnse is compromised with that bride of his."

Cordelia stared down into the muddy depths of her cup. Before they had left, Cap had kissed her temple. His closeness heated her blood despite everything that had happened. He then had lingered, his breath stirring her hair. Nuzzling his face into her hair, his grip on her elbow tightened.

 _ _We'll talk when I get back, Cordelia.__ He'd whispered hoarsely.

Cordelia's reserve broke and she nodded. However, she felt it prudent not to mention the baby, not right before he left on a raid.

"I've been dreaming again," she blurted out, unable to keep it in.

Levicy crooked an eyebrow at her. "Tell me."

"They happened more frequently a couple months ago before I came to live with you. Before my father... before the shooting with Bad Frank." Cordelia rubbed the back of her stiff neck. "But it started again a couple nights ago. I don't remember many details-"

"Do you recall __anything__?"

"Smoke," Cordelia choked out. "And blood."

"They never should have gone. They never should have planned this raid, it's got a bad feeling around it, leavin' me jairy." Levicy shivered. She reached out and patted Cordelia's hand. "You tell him yet?"

"No, I didn't think it the right time."

"That's wise. My son doesn't need anything but Hatfields on his mind this night."

Cordelia wondered if that was all any of them thought about and how much it mattered anymore. One family with too many dead sons and the other driven into the hills to scratch a living off the land like Adam driven from Eden. Both had already lost so much. She shuddered to think that perhaps more was left to be taken. Her stomach rolled and she groaned. Levicy grabbed an empty bowl from nearby and Cordelia vomited into it.

"Tis the way of it, I'm afraid," Levicy commented, brushing Cordelia's hair from her shoulder. "Let's get you back to bed."

As she let Levicy lead her to her bedroom, Cordelia realized that this woman would probably be the closest thing to a mother she'd remember in her adult years. As she tucked her into the bed, her stern features softening with concern, Cordelia was surprised to be happy at the prospect. She and Levicy Hatfield had more in common than either had ever considered.

"Thank you, Levicy," Cordelia said, grasping her hand before she left.

Levicy squeezed her fingers, cocking her head to the side. "I'm mighty glad to have another woman around this place."

"Even a Yankee?"

Levicy snorted and patted her hand. "We can't have everything now, can we?"

Whistling awoke her and the muted clop of horse hooves on dirt moving past her window on the trail below. She winced in the light of morning and realized it was well past dawn. Levicy had let her sleep late. Peering out the window, she watched the slow progression of returning Hatfield men. All were somber eyed and gray with exhaustion. Randall McCoy was nowhere to be seen. Her husband passed the window on his slow moving steed. He didn't cast a glance towards the window where she stood but threw back a swallow of moonshine from his flask. The only cheerful one was Cottontop, whistling a bright tune as he took up the tail of the parade.

Cordelia heard the front door open and froze. Levicy, Anse and Jim Vance spoke haltingly in hushed tones. She couldn't make out anything from where she stood but Cordelia knew that the raid had been a failure. Though she would have expected harsh words and shouting, not this deadly stillness. It was almost worse. Swallowing down the bile rising in her throat, Cordelia inched towards the door and opened it a crack. The speaking had slowed to a pause, the silence poisonous with anticipation. Cordelia held her breath.

"Well, what do we do now, Jim?" Anse asked. "Kill them all?"

Fire and smoke rushed into her memory. More McCoys were dead. That was the only thing those words could mean. Cordelia gripped the door before shutting it on a truth she couldn't face. Perhaps Jim McCoy had been shot down, his other siblings burned up to ash, maybe the little girl her father had saved not six months earlier. Blood was on their hands. On the hands of her unborn child.

Cordelia moved stiffly towards the window and stared out into the first morning of the New Year. An owl flew by the tree beside her window and perched, peering with yellow eyes into her own. She didn't move to make a mark on the glass. It didn't matter anymore, bad omen or not. The curse on the Hatfields and McCoys was now upon her.

Dry eyed, she set about getting ready for the day. Ignoring the twinge in her belly, she pulled on her work dress, her back to the room. She didn't even hear the door open. Nimble fingers moved down her back as her husband helped button her up. "Seems I'll be going away for sometime."

Cordelia swallowed hard but didn't look over her shoulder. "Why?"

Cap's hands hesitated at her neck before brushing her curls over her shoulder. He curved his arms around her waist and rested his head wearily into her shoulder, the golden scruff on his chin pricking exposed skin. "The raid did not go as planned."

"How many?"

"Two. Maybe three of them."

"Randall McCoy?"

"No."

Cordelia squeezed her eyes shut. "Jim McCoy?"

"He wasn't there."

Cordelia's mind reeled. "One of their girls?"

Cap said nothing but nodded, his hold on her tightening. "And their son Calvin."

That meant the only McCoy son left was Jim. All of his brothers and one sister, dead. "You said three."

"The mother. Maybe."

Cordelia's knees went weak. The lack of sleep and her morning sickness made her light headed and now with this revelation, she nearly fainted. Sally McCoy, the one with the sight that even her enemy's wife spoke of in reverence, was dead. Possibly. Cap held her up and moved her towards the bed. He wouldn't meet her eyes as he knelt in front of her but gripped her hands in his ice cold ones.

"Pap is sending me and Jim Vance away to lay low for a bit," he explained, his voice drained of emotion. "You need to stay here with the family."

Cordelia nodded dully. "Of course. How long will you be gone?"

"Not sure. I hate the McCoys as much as any in my family, but women and children..."

"Innocent blood," she murmured. "That's the blood that won't wash off."

Cap rose swiftly to his feet and released her hands. He paced towards the window. "I know I said we'd talk when I got back-"

"Cap," she cut him off and pressed a hand to her torso. "There is nothing for you to be concerned about with that letter. It was a silly impulse to keep it. I should have destroyed it long ago. That life isn't for me anymore."

"But this life, it isn't worthy of you. I've always known it."

"Whatever you might think, it doesn't matter. This is the life I choose." Cordelia rose to her feet and came up behind him. She laid her head on his shoulder blade. "I chose you and that's the end of it."

Cap ran a hand over his face with a gruff laugh. "I don't need you feeling obligated-"

"I'm not obligated." Need filling her with urgency, she wrapped her arms around his waist as though she were hanging on for dear life in the midst of a flood.

As he peered down at her, a strand of hair fell over his blind eye. Cordelia lightly brushed it away and his hand caught hers. He pressed a kiss at the center of her palm. "I've always wanted you."

"Then let's have no more talk of these things." Cordelia managed a pained smile. "You go with Jim Vance and stay safe. I'll be fine here."

They rode off not a half hour later, Cap shooting her a strained smile over his shoulder before following down the trail with Jim's dog trotting behind them. Levicy came up behind Cordelia and patted her shoulder.

"You still didn't say anything," she said.

"No."

"Good. Now let's get the supper on."

That night when Cordelia dreamed of blood, she awoke with a start. Her legs were sticky and wet. Lighting a candle sitting by the bed, she pulled back the quilt with shaking hands to find a lake of blood between her thighs. There was no pain, no fever, none of the other symptoms of miscarriage but when Levicy walked into the room at the sound of her weeping, her expression confirmed Cordelia's suspicion. She was losing the baby.


	32. On Thacker Mountain

A final shot resounded through the hills. Blood thudding in his brain and soaking through his shirt where he'd been hit, Cap stumbled through the winter bare wood on Thacker Mountain. The wolf teeth of terror and grief tore into his heart. Jim Vance had been a second father to him and now had sacrificed himself so Cap could escape. He shouldn't have left him to make his final stand alone against the likes of Bad Frank. Running like a scared rabbit with no more bullets and only a hunting knife in his boot, he was good as dead. The last thing he wanted was to be found shot down dead with a bullet hole through his back, the sign of a coward.

Despite the white hot adrenaline igniting his veins, one question screamed out in his mind. How had they found them? Only four people had known of their whereabouts; pap, Jim, himself and...

Cap groaned as he came to a halt. He gripped the lean trunk of a silver birch and banished the thought from his head. Johnse was no Judas, he would never have breathed a word that might harm him. They were brothers. Blood.

Gritting back the pain, Cap pushed on towards the creek. He had evaded Bad Frank's bounty hunters. They were running downhill while he had gone east. The last McCoy son living, Jim, had taken aim and nearly struck Cap in the heart. If it had been Cap at the trigger, he wouldn't have missed. Jim McCoy had always been a better farmer than hunter.

The tumbling, tea brown water of the creek that cut around the mountain swept through jagged rocks. A stone edge caught Cap in the ankle, leaving a streak of blood on the dry rock. The hounds chasing after him would certainly smell it, if they made it this far. The searing pain in his shoulder nearly doubled him over as he emerged onto the other bank. He tripped on a root and fell onto the wet sand, red dripping onto the gray dirt. A cloud of grouse were disturbed from their hiding place in the undergrowth and took to the sky in a fury of feathers. Cap peered up through blurry eyes as a lone figure emerged from the rusty foliage, his rifle at the ready and aiming where he'd missed.

"Jim McCoy," Cap croaked with a bitter smile. "You gonna fire than gun or what? All your God fearin' sermons getting in the way of vengeance?"

Jim shifted on his boots and dug the butt of the gun into his shoulder. His sharp blue eyes were alight with something Cap had never seen in the mild spirited man. He recalled Jim's younger brother bleeding out beside a burning cabin. A young girl, eyes pale blue and wide as they stared into nothing, shot dead while shepherding her little siblings. His mother struck in the skull. Cap couldn't blame Jim for the wrath burning in his eyes.

"Go on." Cap spread his arms and closed his eyes. "You've got yer shot."

A moment of quiet passed with only the rustle of squirrels and cascade of water behind him. The voices of the other bounty hunters had faded into the distance. It was down to Jim and Cap.

"Stand up." Jim's voice was deadly still.

Cap opened his eyes and obeyed, grimacing from a shot of pain racing through his chest. Jim's glare was unearthly in it's intensity. Cap almost had to look away.

"You taking me prisoner?" Cap asked tentatively, almost preferring the prospect of being killed out there than rotting in a Kentucky prison cell.

"I have a proposition for you, Hatfield."

Cap cocked his head to the side, one good arm raised over his head in surrender. "What is that?"

"I hear you've taken Miss Robertson as a bride."

"You mean Mrs. Hatfield," Cap couldn't help jabbing. He gave a grim smile as Jim lifted the gun once more. "I asked her to marry me and she said yes."

"Why?"

"To keep her safe, to do for her what you couldn't," Cap spat out. "What of it? It's not another reason to kill me, though you have enough of those. She became my wife of her own free will."

A pang of guilt stung him as he realized she would now be a widow after barely two months of marriage. Perhaps it was for the best. This life would never be good enough for her.

"Let her go, Hatfield, and I'll let you go."

Cap blinked back at him, shocked at how Jim had read his thoughts. "What-"

"You heard me," Jim snarled, his aim still steady on Cap's heart. "Give her an annulment. Otherwise I can't guarantee her safety."

Cap stiffened and took a step forward. "You can't or you won't?"

"Frank Phillips' men have had their leashes loosened after you attacked my family on New Years. If we find your folk, none will be given mercy, no more than you gave my sister and mother."

The image of their mountain retreat burning to the ground and the bodies of his sisters, mother and wife laid out on the cold ground struck his brain. Cap took another step forward, fear and rage coursing in his body. "You would shoot her yourself?"

"No! But I cannot promise that someone else won't, no matter what I try to tell them. These men are out for blood now," Jim protested and drew forward, stabbing Cap in the chest with the barrel of the gun. The shouts of the bounty hunters were echoing closer now. Jim wet his lips, his breath coming quick. "Let her go, let her live if you truly care for her."

"And what will you do? Take her for your own?"

Jim scoffed. "That's where you and I have always differed. I always knew she was too good for the likes of me but you never saw it. Instead you dragged her through the mud. Do right by her this once and let her return north, away from all of this."

Cap shook his head, his eyes cutting skyward as blood dripped down his chest. Though it hurt him terribly to admit it, he couldn't help but see the truth in McCoy's words. The letter from her old beau promising her a good life came to mind with a vengeance. This was no life for Cordelia Robertson.

"Very well." Cap took a step back, lifting his head but not meeting Jim's eyes.

Jim let his weapon droop as the bounty hunters' steps drew closer. "I'm holding you to it, Hatfield. Don't let what happened to my sister to happen to the woman we both love. If it does, I will skin you alive."

Cap limped away into the wood. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jim standing in the clearing where he'd left him, his stature crumpling and face cradled in his hands. Cap realized with a grimace that Jim McCoy must love Cordelia something terrible to let one of the men who killed his kin walk free.


	33. Fever Dreams

_"No more bleeding cloths today?" Levicy asked, careful not to look Cordelia in the eye as she collected dirty laundry._

Cordelia shook out the wrinkles from her blankets and tucked them neatly under the straw tick. "No."

"Been a week since the last."

"Yes."

"You bled for a fortnight. That's common in these things." Levicy had never lost a pregnancy but had known many who had experienced it. Sally McCoy even a time or two, she'd said, then had quickly changed the subject. "The grief will fade soon, you were so early. You'll get with child again, you'll see."

Levicy lifted the basket onto her hip and swept from the room, as uncomfortable with voicing her feelings as Cordelia. Gnawing on her lower lip and perching at the end of the bed, Cordelia gripped her hands in her lap. Grief was something she would have welcomed. The first shock of loss had brought her to tears but soon the sadness had melted as swiftly as March frost, leaving behind only a hideous sense of relief. A baby had been the last thing she'd wanted right then, her feelings concerning Cap being so conflicted.

Shame gripped her till she was pale and wordless. Concerned, Levicy wasn't sure how to breach her isolation. Her mother-in-law stated relentlessly that things would get better once Cap returned. At night, Cordelia could hear her whispering fervently to Anse, begging him to call Cap home for a quick spell if only to see to his wife. Cordelia wondered how much that would help matters.

"I'll see to these at the creek," Cordelia volunteered as she entered the kitchen and picked the laundry basket up from the table.

"Good, you could use the air. Robert E, go with Cordelia," Levicy directed firmly as she churned the butter.

Cap's younger brother propped a floppy hat on his honeyed head and grabbed a rifle from where it sat by the stove. Desperately trying to make his boyish gait look more like a manly stride, he led the way down the dusty road. Cordelia followed numbly, the sky overhead a hollow gray that matched the blankness in her eyes. Despite the chill in the water and the strain in her shoulders as she slapped the clothes clean against the rocks, she could not ignore the searing ache in her chest. The question remained like a glowing coal against her breast bone. Levicy had asked it the night she'd lost the baby.

 _ _Are you going to tell Cap?__

What was there to tell? To talk of more death when that was all they had lived and breathed for months? Little lies were what their marriage was built upon. What was one more secret added to their tower of Babel?

Robert E shifted where he stood against a tree behind her. Dry leaves left a musty scent on the air as they crunched under his boots. So lost in her thoughts, Cordelia hadn't heard the raised voices calling out in distress. Robert E tipped back the wide brimmed hat that had once belonged to Johnse and stepped in front of her, shouldering the gun.

"Somethin' is wrong, Miss Cordelia," he muttered.

"Yes. Wait-"

Cordelia put a damp hand on his slim shoulder, listening hard to the hurried talk growing nearer. She grasped her throat with her free hand as Billy and Cotton Top came around the tight corner of the dirt mountain road. Between them was slung Cap, grimacing in pain and wobbly legged.

She tore off towards them. Cap nearly collapsed into her as she reached them. Cradling his clammy cheeks in her palms, he blinked up at her in anguish.

"How'd they find us, Cordelia? How?"

The bullet had missed anything vital but after dragging himself for miles from Thacker Mountain, he'd lost a lot of blood. Once they'd washed the wound clean with the cool creek water, Levicy joined them with heavy, woolen blankets to wrap around her son's quaking shoulders. They managed to drag him back to the cabin. It didn't take Cordelia long to sew up the wound while Levicy mixed a poultice. The shot had gone clean through, there was no bullet to retrieve and mercifully it had no hit any bone to shatter within the body. After setting the bandage, they propped him in the annexed room where he and Cordelia had been sleeping till his absence.

The fever came on gradually till he sweated beads and shook like an aspen in a blizzard. All the while, he only asked questions of his fever dreams. Body afire, he begged Cordelia with cracked lips to tell him how they'd been found. Why was he alive while Jim Vance's body was likely never to be retrieved? What business did he have marrying her and shackling her to such a life? Levicy looked away with tight lips at that point of inquiry and all Cordelia could do was hold his hand, the grip weak and skin slick.

"He's strong. Been through Scarlet Fever and flu alike, always been strong, this son of mine. Even after the incident at the lumber yard when he caught that splinter in his eye, still carried on. Cap has spirit." Levicy breathlessly spoke while wringing out damp cloths to put on his forehead. Idily, Cordelia realized it was the first she'd heard of how her husband had lost his eye.

Cap's battle raged all night long. Cordelia began to fear he had contracted blood poisoning. However, as Levicy's quiet prayers faded towards dawn and the thin light of morning crept through the log cabin, they found that his fever had broken. Levicy was right about her son, Cap had spirit. Cordelia shuddered to think that it would take something more catastrophic than a mere bullet to the shoulder to kill her husband.

"I'll make us some coffee," Levicy murmured, wearily rising to her feet and running a hand over her graying hair.

Cordelia sat quietly by the bed, her eyes dry from no sleep. He slept hard, a good sign. She reached out and caught his hand in her own and held it, considering her words to him when he finally awoke.

 _ _Why'd you take me as yours? You took a curse on when you took me, Cordelia__ _._ He had moaned in his stupor during the night.

His words haunted her even more now that she had evidence of her fears. Two months into their marriage and already a lost child. There was blood to be repaid by the Hatfields just as it was by the McCoys and the innocent would be the ones to bear the punishment.

Cordelia loosed his hand and strode out of the room, bent on helping Levicy with breakfast. She looked over at the stove in surprise to find Anse making the coffee and putting some old biscuits and jerky on the table for the children's breakfast. He had been mending slowly from his pleurisy. Cordelia glanced towards their bedroom and saw Levicy laid out on the bed, fast asleep.

Anse gave her a weary smile. "I don't need both my son and my wife laid out ill. Nor do I need a daughter-in-law in the same state. Take this and go back to your husband, lay down for a spell."

Her father-in-law handed her a cup of coffee, the rich scent like a balm to her taut nerves. His blue eyes, usually as sharp as Cap's in their levity, were soft with concern. He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze and Cordelia found herself biting back the tears. It was much like her own father's manner before his addiction had grown too severe. A tight fist formed around her heart as she turned towards her room.

She had grown to love her adopted family. Cap's siblings and his parents were dear to her, despite their circumstances. She was no longer alone among them but one of them. Comforted by this thought, she closed the door to the room she shared with her husband and laid down next to him in her work dress. She did not wake till late afternoon when the last light of day struck through the window.

Dragging herself from the warmth of their bed, she trudged into the kitchen where Levicy was preparing a simple evening meal of hominy, red beans and eggs. Wordlessly, she joined in her labor as the children dutifully ate their supper, the men gathering their vittles to eat elsewhere. Annie helped them clean up, her manner as sober as the adults around her.

Annie had grown much from the saucy young girl in pigtails since their arrival in the mountains. She was also the only other person in the family than Levicy who knew of Cordelia's loss as she had helped clean up the bloody bedding. She hadn't breathed a word of it since but seemed more protective of Cordelia as though she were a young one Annie was directed to watch over.

"I think I know who Pap believes told on Cap to the McCoys," Annie whispered behind Cordelia before she closed the door to the annexed room.

Cordelia wrapped her arms around her torso against the chill on that side of the house. Annie played with the end of her single plait down her back, her brow wrinkled in worry. Cordelia stepped towards her.

"Who was it?"

"Johnse," Annie muttered, her voice cracking with the single name.

Her breath caught in her throat. So the curse was visiting itself on the Hatfield clan in other ways to tear it apart. It seemed probable. Johnse possessed more charm than wit. Married to a McCoy girl who might have ulterior motives for wedding him than love, it might have been a thoughtless mistake on Johnse's part.

"Pap won't like it," Annie whispered, her brown eyes wide in the candle light. "He might do something to Johnse."

"Your father loves his children, all of you. Even if he did say something, Johnse has nothing to fear from your father," Cordelia replied firmly though her insides quaked as she said it. Before the anxiety in her eyes gave her away, Cordelia swiftly turned into her own room and closed the door.

Cap's countenance was peaceful in the candlelight as she set it beside their bed, his yellow hair splayed on the pillow and the worry lines on his forehead smooth. She checked the bandages and was relieved to find that the wound wasn't festering. It would heal and he was out of danger from the fever. But with his blood loss, he would be weak for several days. Undressing to her shift, she got into the bed with her husband and was soon lulled to sleep by his gentle breathing.

She didn't know if it was the hands at her waist or the call of the owl that awoke her when the moon was high in the window, peeking through the trees. Cap's breathing hitched as he gingerly pulled her to him, her back to his chest. He braced his arm between her breasts and buried his face in her hair. Despite everything that had happened, there was peace in that stolen moment.

"Did I ever tell you how much I wanted you before we wed?" he spoke, his words a quiet river in the dark.

Sparks lit up Cordelia's spine as he pressed his lips to the indent of bone behind her ear and pulled her closer still. "No."

"I've never wanted something so much than to hold you like I'm doing now." He nipped her earlobe with his teeth. "No matter what happens, please remember."

Cordelia paused, wondering what he could mean by such a cryptic statement. He tugged her shift up her leg, his kissing growing more fervent as he gripped her inner thigh. It had been so long since he'd held her. As he kissed her full on the mouth, Cordelia tucked away her worries about Johnse and the loss of their child. Giving into his body and the wants of her own, he made love to her as though it was the last time.


	34. Youthful Enthusiasm

Cordelia awoke alone in their bed. It was barely dawn. Silvery white light trickled down into the canyon from a clear sky over the mountains. After his injury and infection, she had expected Cap to rest at least for a day. But he hadn't even woken her before he'd left the room.

Perhaps he was eager to get to work, anything to distract his mind from the violent death of Uncle Jim. Though she harbored no warm feelings for the man, Jim Vance was a great loss to her husband. The surly mountain man had been like a second father to him. To be the only survivor of their encounter with the McCoy bounty hunters was bound to leave him heartbroken and confused. Mountain folk liked to throw themselves into work when they were grieving, a useful preoccupation she had found herself after losing everything and escaping with the Hatfields into the wild.

Tying her apron around her waist, she emerged into the kitchen to find it empty except for her mother-in-law. Her brow furrowed as she studied the woman. Levicy sat with her spine ram rod straight by the cast iron stove, her worn hands folded tightly in her lap and eyes trained on the dying fire. Cordelia had never witnessed her relentless mother-in-law sitting for no good reason during the day. Even at night when she would finally rest her feet, she was always busy shelling beans or darning clothes. Never just sitting with hands idle.

"Levicy?"

She stirred, her mouth snapping closed as she shot a glance at Cordelia. "Yes? Well... we got to get on the churning today. The girls just brought in the milk from the barn."

"Are you... alright?" Cordelia pressed, approaching the kitchen table as Levicy dragged over the butter churn.

Levicy jerked her chin sharply towards the hearth. "Why wouldn't I be now? Quit with your questions and get me that boiling water. It's too cold to just put the cream in without warming the churn first. Remember that in your winter months. When you have a home of your own with Cap someday."

Cordelia felt the tug of a smile at that thought. It wouldn't be easy to live without her newly found family, but to have a place of their very own somewhere close to Levicy and Anse would be nice. Quiet even, until they had children. If she would be able to carry a pregnancy to term.

A doctor's daughter had knowledge of such unpleasant subjects as barren wombs and women who lost baby after baby before they even made it halfway through their confinement. Cordelia tried not to dwell on it, but after her miscarriage, the fear had haunted her like bird shadow on the ground at her feet. Especially since she had realized that she really did want to have Cap's children.

While they churned, Levicy became more withdrawn, her expression turning more severe as she pounded the plunger into the sloshing liquid. A stray splinter on the handle caught her palm and she hissed, bringing the pad of her hand to her mouth, perched her other fist on her hip. Cordelia's heart thudded hard at the sight of a tear escaping Levicy's eye.

"Something is the matter," Cordelia said quietly, bringing her a damp cloth for her hand to dab away the blood. "Please tell me."

"Don't- don't ask me anything. Not yet," Levicy replied, shaking her head. "Not till I know for sure."

"Till you're sure of what?"

Levicy glared up at Cordelia. Her daughter-in-law maintained her fierce stare with her chin tilted in challenge. The older woman sighed heavily through her nose. "Anse took Johnse fishing this morning. They haven't returned home yet."

Cordelia didn't need to ask what was so terrifying about a fishing trip. She had heard enough the past couple days about Johnse being the possible culprit in letting slip where Jim Vance and Cap had been hiding out. Devil Anse hadn't earned his nickname by chance, but was he really the kind of man who would murder his own son for being a Judas? The whole thing rang of a Shakespearean tragedy waiting to happen.

Levicy sank to a chair, wiping her brow with the cloth. "I told him- I made him promise me-"

"Anse loves his children. Any fool can see that," Cordelia stated firmly though her insides quivered. "He would never... he would never harm one of them, either by accident or-"

The gentle thud of hoofbeats sounded outside. Levicy dropped the cloth and sprang to her feet, fluttering to the door of the cabin. Levicy gripped the door post as Anse appeared in the yard, leading a lonely horse. Levicy swayed a little as her husband paused then moved towards where she stood.

Johnse ambled into view, his straw gold hair the same shade as Cap's gleaming in the broad daylight. Levicy relaxed heavily against her husband, gripping his shoulder before bustling into the yard to greet her eldest.

Cordelia released her breath and knelt to pick up the cloth, a weak smile of relief breaking across her face. It faded when she noticed that Anse's grimace as he poured himself a cup of hickory coffee from off the stove top, the earthy scent filling the kitchen. Anse sipped the steaming tin cup then tipped it towards the door. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Cap's down by the creek. Mentioned something about wanting to see you when you were done with your chores."

Something in his voice made her freeze. Why hadn't Cap come looking for her himself? Sending his father as messenger didn't sound like him, it certainly didn't sound like Anse either to deliver it willingly.

Giving a curt nod, Cordelia turned to the butter churn and slammed the plunger into it to keep the creamy sludge from solidifying. Levicy soon returned to the kitchen, her shoulders less tense and mouth relaxed.

"You almost done with that then?" she asked, stacking more kindling on the fire.

"Nearly," Cordelia grunted. "Anse said something about Cap wanting to see me down by the creek."

"Go on to your husband then, I can finish this," Levicy replied, taking over after wiping her hands on her apron. "Why didn't he just come looking for you his'self? Sending for you like some house girl, I'll have a talkin' to him if you need me to."

Cordelia gave her a shaky grin. "I am sure that's not necessary. He's probably preoccupied with something. I'll be back in a moment."

The air was crisp with mid-January, the thaw still a time off yet. Wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders, she traveled far down the creek without seeing Cap. She paused at the spot beyond the curve of the rock face where he had proposed to her. She couldn't believe it hadn't been two full months since that time, so much had occurred over a short period.

A rustling in the dead leaves beyond the slow moving water drew her attention. Cap was hidden among the birch and pine, sitting with his shot gun behind his knees. He lifted his scruffy chin in greeting though his mouth remained a rigid line.

Cordelia let out an uncertain chuckle. "What are you doing over there? Squirrel hunting?"

He shrugged. "No."

"Thinking about it then?"

"Thinkin'. But not about huntin'."

He rose from the bracken and moved to the edge of the water without crossing it, the short, chilly current separating them. He tipped the rim of his hat back from his forehead, a strand of hair falling over his blind eye, the other frosted with apathy.

Cordelia shifted from foot to foot and peered down towards the camp. "Thinking about your brother then?"

"Johnse? Did pappy... did he and pappy come back?"

"They just returned. Together."

Cap gave a brief, wry grin. "That's a scrap of good news, I s'pose."

Cordelia swallowed past a dry throat. "And I expect you have some bad news. You wouldn't ask to talk to me all the way out here unless you had something pivotal to say."

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Stop it, Cap. I hate it when you do this. I wish you would let me in and tell me what's bothering you instead of keeping me at arm's length. It's exhausting," she ranted despite herself. The stress of the morning had gotten to her and now her husband's cagey attitude was driving her mood home. "Don't be afraid to tell me-"

"I'm not afraid. At least not for me. I'm afraid for you."

She wet her lips. "Why?"

"Because..." He ran a hand over his face and dug the butt of his prized shot gun into the dirt. "I know this might hurt you somethin' awful, at first maybe. And I don't want to do that, but I gotta do what's right."

"Stop talking in riddles and speak plainly!" Cordelia's arms fell to her sides, her fists clenched.

"Fine. You want plain talk then here it is," he snapped, rubbing his chin and pacing away from her. "I want you to leave."

Cordelia let out a breathy laugh. "What?"

"You heard me. I want an annulment."

A space of silence stretched between them. Pricks of heat lit up her spine to the base of her neck, her cheeks going cold.

"How- but why? What have I done?"

"You've- you've been fine. Just fine-"

" _Fine_?"

"Yeah and what we had was good enough for a time, but I've been doing a lot of thinking-"

"You think way too much and talk too little, Cap Hatfield."

"Let me finish, will you?" His eyes flickered over her then fell away. "We are too different, you and me. We got nothin' in common except a hankering for each other. That's all we built this dang thing on. And after I found that letter you'd kept from that Yankee beau of yours, I decided it would be better if you went back to where you belong."

"Where _do_ I belong?" Cordelia asked, her question not only for him but for herself as well. "Tell me where I belong now? After everything that has happened?"

"You belong up- up north!" He threw a hand vaguely towards the sky. He took off his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve. "You belong back east. Safe and far away from all this blood."

His original excuses melted like late winter snow in her mind. All his arguments about their marriage being built on nothing but lust faded as she studied his tormented expression.

"You don't really want me to go," she whispered, tears of anger gathering in her throat. "Why are you saying this? What's making you?"

"Doesn't matter what I want, doesn't matter what you want," he snarled, pointing at her with his hat flopping in his hand. "What matters is what is right."

"And an annulment. That's your solution to making all this right between us? What are you scared of?"

"I told ya', I ain't scared. I just know better now. These parts are too dangerous for a lady like yerself. It's best that you go home." He hopped across the water and stood several yards off from her. She didn't turn towards him as he cleared his throat, peering in the opposite direction towards the cabin. "I already had pap talk to Uncle Wall about it. Had him draw up the papers. I'll be signing them."

"And you expect me willingly to sign as well?"

"Yes. Then you'll be leaving with Uncle Wall this afternoon. He's takin' you back to that McCoy house maid of yours till you can figure your way back north. He'll help you, he promised. There are others too... others in town that will help."

"Cap," she breathed, refusing to allow her tears to surface yet. "You can't go through with this... after everything... after all-"

"Youthful enthusiasm. That's what ma called what I felt for you when I told her I was fixin' to marry you. Took me some time, but I see it now. It never would have worked between us, Cordelia. You've known it from the start, I was just a little slower than you."

Putting his hat back on his head, Cap shouldered his shot gun and strode away from her with his back straight and head held high. Confidence was in his step, not indecision. There would be no changing his mind.

Cordelia gasped a breath and sank to the damp creek sand, covering her mouth with a quivering hand so the others wouldn't hear her sobs carried on the biting breeze.


End file.
